


My Prince Loki

by Scratchet



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Loki, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Violence, F/M, Good Loki, Imaginary Friends, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Psychology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scratchet/pseuds/Scratchet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a lonely five year old girl and unacknowledged God met after a broken curse, the two quickly became friends in the midst of an abusive world</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Most days when I’m reflecting on my childhood and just my life in general I found myself comparing it to, Drop Dead Fred. 

Granted my life isn’t as comical as Annabelle’s or I am engaged to a dickhead of man like she was. Nor did I have the luxury of losing my job and my cheating fiancée leaving me. I and Annabelle only shared one problem together; the fact we both had friends no one else could see. 

Every child at some point has an imaginary friend. A person who they can share their interests and hobbies with, someone who wants to listen to their chatter, someone who’s there for them and can protect them when others can’t and won’t. Most imaginary friends can show a quality of the child or what they’re going through in their life. If it’s stressful, the friend will probably be relaxed or fun and crazy like Drop Dead Fred was with Annabelle. 

But most important, a person who they alone can sense and no one else can, making this person special to them. You can never tell a child that their friend isn’t real, because to them they’re very solid people. 

Annabelle could see Drop Dead Fred; she could interact with him and him with her. She probably could smell him and taste his scent on her tongue. 

Because I could with mine, I could see, hear, touch, smell and taste him. I heard his laughter, I could feel and smell him and see his smile no one else could.   
And like Drop Dead Fred, my friend, my Prince, had come back when I was an adult.

But now everyone else could see him and wasn’t a figment of my imagination, nor was here to fix on help me. 

And to think all of this started with one strange frog on a park footpath.


	2. The Frog

I was five years old when the green, gold and black spotted amphibian looked up at me with curious eyes. He was just sitting there looking at me and I at it on the sunny Saturday afternoon. I had met park animals before and usually a frog like this one would have hopped back into the pond swimming for its life, but this one was different for somehow.

Maybe this frog isn't a frog, I remember thinking as the frog watched me with strange intelligent eyes, and I at it with my five year old curiosity. Maybe it was a Prince turned into a frog by some evil witch or fairy.

“Mummy can I kiss it?” I asked at that moment turning to her and my grandmother.

My Mum smiled at me with a stressed pressed smile, “No sweetheart, maybe leave the frog alone, it’s probably poisonous.”

She told me then to follow her, but being the typical five year old with a burning curiosity I looked back to the frog then to my Mother who by then was busy in her discussion with her mother walking to the playground.

Mum’s not looking, it won’t hurt, I thought, smiling to myself getting on my hands and knees to the frogs level. The frog didn't move, it just stared up at me with his strange emerald eyes titling its head to get a better look.

“Hello,” I started swallowing tightly watching the frog move closer to me, again I didn't flinch,

“I know I’m not a real Princess but my Mummy says I am.” I took a calming breathe out, “So maybe I can get you out of that spell.”

As a reply the frog blinked back at me making a strange croaking noise, it didn't seem to make me flinch or move.

Then, with flinched eyes I kissed the little thing on the head. I still remember the vile taste of mucus on mouth that made me flinch and run away not seeming to care whether the frog had turned or not.

But little did I know that later on that strange little frog would follow me home. But not as the frog or as the dashing blonde Prince Charming I had in mind.

I don’t understand to this day what made me so special. I was just an only child who probably over dosed on her fairy-tale books. So why would a Norse God take an interest in me? How could I broken the “spell” that was on him? Was it my innocence or wanting to help another living creature?

And why did stay with me as long as he did? Why did he want to be my friend? Did he have to do it? Was that the catch of the, “spell”? Like I stated before I still don’t understand why, even in my adult years.

All I know is later on that night I was confronted with my frog, now a young black haired man who towered over me at his height. He’s small smile was on his square face when he knelt to my level. Frightened I held my Madeline toy close looking at the stranger glazing at me with his unworldly bright green eyes.

“Are you my Princess?” He whispered in a velvet voice, the green emeralds that I had seen on the frog from the park shining at me. A little smile spread on my face feeling triumph. I had done it, I really was a princess like my Mother had told me.

I nodded swallowing the tightness in my throat looking at the handsome face of my prince, 

“Are you my Prince?”

“I can be if you want me to be,” He held out his hand which I looked at with fright and interest, the small smile now pressed with his thin lips, “I can also be your friend.”

“My friend?”

“The very best there is.” I move over then smiling a shy smile at the young man taking his hand that was soft and slender than my own.

“Ok.” I answered with a small shy voice, the big smile I got from him giving me courage, “My name’s Louisa.”

“Loki.”

And from that day forward, Loki the God of Mischief was my best friend, the very best a five year old could get. And I was his, the very best a five year old could be to a God. But above all else, he was my Prince. He wasn't blonde haired nor was he strong, but he was cunning and kind to me. He was also only seen by me, no one else could see his smile or hear voice or smell his cologne of leather and unworldly spices.

And because of that for the rest of kindergarten, I was no longer the sad girl with no friends, I had Loki. He was my model when I painted posing for me when I needed him to pose. He was the co-builder when I was in the Lego corner suggesting blocks that would make my towers or little towns more magnificent. He played houses with me drinking my drinks that came to life for both of us when we drank it. Along with making hot chocolate appear he would make boys and girls who teased me wet themselves or made their towers fall down.

And at home, it was pretty much the same. I’d play hide ‘n’ seek with him where’d he multiple himself to make a longer game. He’d read me stories when my Mother couldn't and wouldn't. Sometimes if I was lucky I would tell me his own stories of his recent adventures in Asgard that he went on.

He was the best friend I could ask for and what was better, he was all mine. But with all this, Loki was also my protector with my difficult family environment.


	3. The Mistreatment

Whenever Loki is mentioned in the accordance with the Domestic Violence, all the psychologists believe that he was a way I coped. According to them it’s a very common thing for a child to do, to conquer up an adult friend who protects or distracts them from the violence. Because if a child still had an imaginary friend past four years old, according to Benjamin Spock this usually meant that something is lacking in the child or in their environment. So Loki being there indicted my home life was nothing as wonderful as I wanted it to be, and by having him there, my life was made more bearable.  
It’s a good theory and seems to be on the right track except for one simple fact. Before Loki had appeared in my childhood room, I knew nothing of the Viking’s Gods and their mythology. I didn’t know of Odin the All Father, Asgard, The Tree of Life or even the Rainbow Bridge. Hell, I didn’t found till later on that Thursday was named after Thor the God of Thunder or that Saturday was practically named after my Prince.  
This was the same with my upbringing. I only got told the usual fairy-tales so my Mum (the one who did majority of the story telling) never really told me Norse mythology stories like “Tyr the Wolf” or any other stories Loki let me know of when he came into my life.  
So how could I choose him to my special friend or Prince at the age of five when I didn’t even know he existed? Why would I choose him to help me through the fights and the abuse?  
Loki did help was in his own special way (and like the counsellors and psychologists said) he did distract and help me block out the raised voices and abuse when it wasn’t directed at me. He would allow me only hear his voice by telling me of stories and songs of Asgard or just hearing him talk to me about random things like our past adventure in our little chubby house or teach me my ABC’S. The God sometimes even locked the door when he heard my Father thundering down the hall; the door that had no lock on it.  
Loki did distract and protect me the best way he could, but he was powerless when the assault was turned from my Mother onto me. Sure his magic made it easier for me to run away and even made my voice louder when I wanted to yell; but Loki couldn’t stop him once he began.  
I got in trouble for minor things when at home, majority of time it was because my Father usually over heard me talking to Loki or I was talking about him at the dinner table instead of eating. My Mum worked most nights so it usually just left my Dad and me at home alone. So every time I did mention my Prince when Mum wasn’t home, I got hit repeatedly as a lesson. And as much as Loki hated to watch and be near the assault, he couldn’t stop it. Loki couldn’t take away some of the pain, he couldn’t be push or stop my Father’s rage.  
My Dad would mainly use his hands hitting me on the back slide, my sides or my stomach, places where no one else could see the scars or the bruises. Sometimes he would use objects, usually wooden spoons and sometimes his belt with his belt buckle still attached.  
My Father believed this was him disciplining me and it was right. For one he believed I deserved it and two because it was how he grew up as a child back in the sixties and seventies. Also he was a medical marijuana taker for his PTSD after, “stepping over dead bodies” as a young adult when he worked in the grave-yard. Today I know this story was a lie to get the substance to smoke and use to his own advantage leaving the government none the wiser. Though then it still didn’t make me nor Loki hate the man any less to what he was doing to me.  
“I despise him Louisa, why doesn’t your Mother simply leave him?” He would ask on a number of occasions and my answer, while it varied like his question, it still held the same points, 

“I hate him too,” and, “Mummy doesn’t have anywhere to go” 

For this was true, my Father had made us extremely isolated and very anxious about leaving due to his behaviour.

My Mum was not really allowed to see her Mother nor was she allowed to come to my childhood home while he was there. This also went for my other extended family members. I had a Grandfather I never really knew all too well along with an Uncle who died a month after I had met him. We lived in a community that we didn’t feel a part of except when we went to the store. Our neighbours were ghostly strangers who showed their heads when the, “domestics” got to loud, I don’t think they ever rang the police. But then again it was 1994 and Domestic Violence in America to the Police was consisted a private issue they never got involved in. 

And because of that my Mum and I couldn’t really turn to anyone for help. I wasn’t allowed to tell my Kindergarten teacher what was going on because my Mum was afraid of losing me to the child services. So if my Dad had injured me to the point where I would be so numb or battered, I had to lie to my Kindergarten with the cliché excuse that I had feel over or had accidently done it to myself. I remember one day after my Father had once hit me so hard on my behind I couldn’t sit down on the floor without biting back tears.  
Mum and I also received emotional abuse from the dickhead. My Mum was usually told she was a worthless human being and a terrible Mother while I was told I was stupid and a brat that held no worth.

Sometimes I thought it was my fault my parents’ marriage was so broken. For when they did argue (and I was listening) I would five times outta ten be the topic at some point. My Dad’s words still haunting me to this day,

_“Ever since Louisa’s been around our marriage has gone to shit!”_

_“Louisa is the reason we live like this!”_

_“Louisa lives too much time in her fucking head to understand what the fuck she’s doing to you and I! She’s a manipulating little bitch!”_

_“Maybe if she’d been born a boy she’d be different!”_

It got to the point where I used to think about just running away because maybe then Mum and Dad’s relationship would get better without me. The only thing that kept me there was going to Kindergarten, which felt like my only escape from the violence and my own fright of the outside world I had been brainwashed into thinking was filled with monsters.  
I should have really been worried about the monster that lived with me. Loki used to describe my Father this way by comparing him to the likeness of a Frost Giant.

“What’s a Frost Giant?” I had asked him one day after he had let me cry in his arms. At that moment my parents were probably involved in another argument.

“A beastly monstrous creature that lives in an arctic world called Jotunheim.” 

He told me moving me so I was looking up to his face into his green eyes; he wiped my tears away as I he talked with a gentle sing song voice, 

“Asgard and Jotunheim went to war with one another before either of us existed. The All Father made a truce with the monsters and they haven’t breached Asgard’s defensives since.”

I looked away down to my hands that were sitting in my lap, “Except when one got out and turned into Daddy.”

I remembered feeling panicked as I looked back up to my Prince, “Does that mean I’m part Frost Giant?” 

He kissed my forehead hard bring me back into his arms, “You will never be a Frost Giant Princess.” He told me and had given me a tight squeeze. 

He looked down smiling at me, “You’re not blue for starters nor do you have crimson eyes, they’re a beautiful blue.” 

He pressed his lips stroking my face, “And you’re kind and grander than those vile heinous and inferior creatures.”

“Really?” I asked hiccupping crying again, he kissed me again on my crown.

“Of course, your Father is the one that is worthless and an imp, not you Princess.”

However my Father did have his better moments. Majority of the time after the physical or emotional fights my parents got into, he’d usually come home with gifts for Mum like flowers and would always sweep her off her feet with kisses and telling her how beautiful she was and how sorry he was. And each time he fooled my Mother and sometimes even me when he apologized telling me I was his angel. And I believed him thinking with my Mother maybe he wouldn’t hurt us again. But Loki knew more than I did, he seemed to know of what Lenore Walker described as the Cycle of Violence. 

Loki knew that what Walker described as the honeymoon stage wouldn’t last and we’d go back into the tension building phrase and another explosion of abuse making these calm points confusing emotionally. During the honeymoon stages Mum would say Dad was a strong man and he loved her and me but as soon as he went back to being the asshole he was, she would hate him and turn into an emotional wreck.

Looking back at the ill amount of photographs in that time period you could see it on my Mother’s face. While my Father never struck it, his actions certainly did by making her look forty instead of twenty six. I was very much the same with giant bags under my eyes, the expression on my face almost distant. Where there are photos of my Father holding me I look extremely distressed and sick, my hand gripping Loki’s hand, though in the photograph it looks like an invisible object. 

It’s almost like looking over Holocaust photographs and to be honest it sometimes felt like I was in a concentration camp with no way out. 

It wasn’t till half way through my kindergarten year was when my Mum and I broke this cycle and escaped from my Father.


	4. The Promise

Loki helped me a lot then, the reason being that I can’t remember a lot from that experience or witnessing the event that made Mum leave finally. I don’t remember saving my Mother from my Dad’s blows or telling her to climb out the window to run away. I don’t remember much about staying in the hostile for those two weeks my Grandmother was on a business trip. I don’t remember sitting in lawyer’s offices nor do I remember living with my Grandmother for three days. 

It was either him blocking or taking away my memories of those events or I hid them myself. Loki, from talking to my Mum, was the only person I would communicate with when I wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Mum used to leave me alone and listen to me talk to Loki to found out why I was upset or why I wouldn’t talk. 

“It was scary when you wouldn’t even talk to Loki. Sometimes you’d just stare into space.” Mum told me one day in tears herself. 

Although with all of this, I can remember little things about the experience. 

The counselling I was supposedly put into at the hostile I remember. According to my Mother the reason she took me was because at the time I wasn’t talking or eating. I remember the counsellor trying to draw with me to get me to talk, but I just pressed the pencils away glaring up at the old woman.

“It’s alright Louisa, you can trust me sweetheart. You’re safe here.” She had said in a patronizing voice smiling sickly, her monkey lips making me not feel safe at all. 

“You don’t have to tell her anything Louisa if you don’t want to.” Loki’s voice had said to me next to my ear pressing me into him to rest on his shoulder.

I had sat like this for the rest of the counselling session looking at the old lady listening to Loki reciting my favourite books off by heart and with theatrical voices for each of the characters. It wasn’t till Loki had got to; _“Madeline and The Gypsies”_ was when the woman had cut the session off in frustration. It was also when I finally talked but granted this was not what the woman would have wanted to hear.

“You smell like cat wee.” 

Another thing I remember was the cold night at my grandmother’s house. My Mother and I had apparently been sharing a bed for the past three weeks, but due to my tossing and turning she hadn’t got a good night rest in a while. So that night she had left me to sleep on another mattress alone in another room with a hot water bottle. For me though the hot water bottle wasn’t a good enough substitute. My Mum had been keeping me warm with her body heat so without her it felt like I was sleeping in an ice block. I tried hugging Madeline tighter and branching myself into a tight ball to absorb my own body heat but all these methods didn’t work. 

Loki was sitting next to me in his armoured suit glaring at the door instead of sleeping, his normal routine I thought he did when I was asleep. So when he turned to me he’s green eyes were shocked and annoyed,

“Louisa you ought to be asleep.” He whispered. 

“I’m cold.” I chatted with my teeth whimpering. 

Loki pressed his lips together with a sigh getting up from his spot near the door.

Smiling I had watched him walk around to the other side of the mattress crawling in with me now dressed in plain black silk pyjamas. I had turned and cuddled up to his chest feeling his long silked arm bringing me closer. We laid like this for what felt like an hour, Loki and I just talking till I slipped into a deep dreamless sleep. We talked about things now I can’t but just thinking of this memory makes me smile the most. I remember how the silk felt under my hands, how his heart beat was faster than my own. When I started to slip I felt his thin lips on my forehead and his mumble of goodnight making me feel safe and loved.

But the thing I remembered the most was the night my Dad had come to my Grandmother’s. I had answered the door thinking it was my Grandma home early from the meeting she was at only to glaze at my Dad smiling at me from his obese height.

“Hello Louisa.”

“Louisa run.” I heard Loki’s panicked voice tell me, but I was stuck looking up to my Dad. I like to think the reason I had kept that door open was because of my arrogance to tell him he wasn’t permitted here. 

“Daddy you’re not allowed here.” I said with a little scowl, my blue eyes in little slits. 

“Close the door Louisa!” 

“I’ve come to take you home where you belong.” The asshole had said picking me up swinging me over his shoulder giving me no time to scream. 

“Louisa no!” 

“NO!” Loki and my Mum had screamed at the same time running after my Dad. My Mum’s begging was drowned out; all I could see was Loki running after me throwing big balls of coloured magic and feeling it pass me. The whole way down to the drive way I cried for my Mum and my Prince kicking and punching my Dad with all my might watching more sorcery fly past me. I was put in the car, my Dad trying to calm me down, 

“You’re going home Louisa.” 

“NO! I WANT TO BE WITH MUMMY!” I had yelled kicking the door instead of his stomach like I wanted to.   
Loki was then at the window then hitting it telling me to open the door and run but I the child safety lock was stopping me. 

“GET ME OUT!” I cried tears rolling down my face still trying at the door, my heart thundering hard in my chest. I watched my Prince crying as well hitting the window trying to break it, but all he was doing was scratching the glass. 

“It’s ok Louisa I’m taking you home.” My Father told me slamming his door driving away, my scream of no matching the horror of Loki’s that shrieked into the night with my Mother’s. 

The reason I remember this the most because when I was put into foreign bed by my Dad crying with him locking the door behind him, Loki was there. When he appeared in the room I was in I scowled at him, my tears shaking me and the bed I laid in. 

He had bent down to my level apologizing, “Louisa I’m sorry I tried-“ 

I sat up pushing my Prince away making him fall to the ground, “Go away!” I yelled turning around to the wall. 

“Louisa please! Hear me I really tired –“

“GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

“– but you know how my magic -”

I turn back around them glaring pushing him again, 

“Your magic is stupid! I hate you!” 

I broke down into tears turning away from my Loki again; his hand on my shoulder got shrugged off every time till I feel asleep on my tear soaked pillow with Loki’s hand resting there. The sound of him saying how sorry he was and the Asgardian curses to the All Father seemed to have sent me to sleep. 

In the morning, when I woke he wasn’t next to me, instead he was dressed in his armour with a golden horned helmet on his head standing near the door. I remember thinking as I glazed at him that the helmet made him look taller and meaner than I thought he truly was along with his long green cape. This was the first time I had seen him dressed this way, usually he wore the simple black and green armour. This armour made him look like he was ready to battle whatever was going to possibly come through the door, whether it was my Dad or not. 

When he saw me awake he came over to me hugged me so tightly letting me cry more tears I thought I had run out of. And when I had stopped weeping I remember the two of us tiptoeing outside the room after Loki had unlocked the door out onto the road, his promise still loud in my ears. 

“I promise you Louisa, I won’t allow anybody to hurt you that way again.” 

I was later found by the local police officers after I rang them from a payphone. My Father was arrested and I was sent back to my teary Mother who squeezed me as tightly as I squeezed her.

My Father went to jail about three months later in a speedy trial for the abduction and for the violence my Mother I were subjected to. He was sentenced for a maximum of three years imprisonment at the state prison, a minimum of two. Although he never finished that sentence seeing he was murdered by specious means and circumstances a week into his sentence.

My Father was found dead by suffocation of his prison bed pillow, the pillow cannot be taken off unless a use of some sort of utensil. No corrections officers who were working that day were seen near him except for the officers standing guard and running the section that day.

The security footage of my Father’s room apparently showed him lying out on the bed comfortably looking at the ceiling. The footage then blacked out and was like this for twenty seconds. When the footage came back, my Father was lying with the pillow on his head, his bed sheets showing evidence of thrashing. The pillow that was used could not be taken off the bed unless you had the use of some sort of utensil and showed evidence of two foreign long fingered hands pressed into the pillow. 

This very case is still being argued to this day on which officer on duty or prisoner was the cause. Some believe it was a mutant guard or prisoner; others say my Father did it himself. 

The mutant theory is no longer thought to be true since the prison did checks as their intact questioner on whether they had the mutant gene or not. Not that any of the guards or prisoners would have a reason to murder my Father anyway. According to most of the guards and some of the prisoners that were heard in the hearing claimed my Father was a tolerable and did nothing to them that would provoke them to kill him. To quote one prisoner, my Dad was known as a, “fucking loner and a wanker” and, “was gone too quickly to get beaten up.”

The theory of my Dad doing it himself can’t be true due to the fact he was seen not to have anything on him nor was there evidence of the security camera being harmed. With that too the camera held no faults before the incident, according to the correction centre where my Father was held, the camera that was in Dad’s cell was brand new and couldn’t have just faulted like it did in the video. 

The only theory that is right and the most accurate was my own. 

“I promise you Louisa, I won’t allow anyone hurt you that way again.”


	5. The Billie Blob

Right up till I was nine, Loki did protect from things I believed were scary.

He became the person who checked for monsters, who watched my door at night and made me watch out for things I could trip over.   
Nevertheless he kept me isolated as well. When I finished kindergarten my Mother was told I would have a hard time with Elementary due to the fact I had isolated myself from other children. 

“But Mummy Loki says those other children are trying to hurt me.” 

“Well does Loki know what they’re really like?” 

“Yes.” He and I replied in unison to my saddened Mother. Like I said I trusted him; he kept me away from children he believed would hurt me. And given what I just went through, I didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

Although when I did start my first year of Elementary school, my kindergarten teacher was right. Elementary school was hard socially right from day one.   
My first day of Elementary School, (like for most six year olds) was a scary but exciting time in my life. I was dressed in oversized dress, my new backpack and an enormous smile on my face. After a few photos with my Grandma and my Mum, I was walked up to my Elementary school holding my Mother’s and my Prince’s hand.

“Loki you have to let me make friends today.” I told him, a confused look crossed his face. 

“But what if they want to hurt you?”

I remember pressing my little shoulders back grinning, “You can make them wet themselves again for me.” 

The irritated look I got from my Prince didn’t seem to bring my moods down. I was determined to make friends, even though I didn’t know how to, I was going to try. And the encouragement I was getting from my Mum for telling Loki off only made my decision more gratifying. 

When I went into my classroom after a teary goodbye from my Mum and a big wave from my Prince, I was told by my beautiful teacher to make friends with the people on my table. I tried to but I didn’t have anything I could talk to them about. Most of them were talking about their favourite shows like Captain America, Transformers and other shows I thought sounded boring. The television was never something I got into, I would always be reading or outside playing rather than sitting in one place watching a box. And it didn’t help that most of the kids on my table weren’t interested in books saying they were tedious.

Most of them talked about where their parents worked. Most of the Dad’s I heard about were builders or worked in some fancy office, I wasn’t about to tell them my Father had died in jail and my Mother worked two jobs as a waitress and a bar lady.

So the only topic I could really talk about was the God of Mischief.

“Who’s Loki?” One ragged boy had asked after I told them about the hide ‘n’ seek game I had won the day before. 

“He’s my Prince. He’s got magic and lives with me and sometimes in Asgard with his family!” I told him and the children around me. 

“That’s stupid, you’re not a Princess,” the boy gave my black haired head a scowl, “you don’t have a crown.” 

“I am too; I changed him from a frog!” 

“You’re a lair.” 

I slapped him then, my angrier peaking, “I am not! Loki’s my friend and he’s real!” The boy’s and the rest of the table’s frightened tears made my yell useless. I was moved to another table only to be met with scared faces. In my little me’s defence I didn’t know how else to act or to do with my angrier. 

On my recess break Loki was waiting for me at one of the benches, a sad look on his face. 

“Make any friends?” 

“No…” I mumbled. “I got in trouble for hitting David.” 

“Why did you hit him?”

“He said you weren’t real like Daddy used to.” 

“Well I am real.” 

“I know,” I said with a glare, “that’s why I hit him.” 

An amused smile crosses my friend’s lips only upsetting me more. “It’s not funny.”

“It is a little.” 

“Is not.” 

A laugh escaped his thin lips, “Is so.” 

I stormed up to him hitting him on his shoulder over and over, “Is not!”

He pressed me off him taking my little face in his hands, “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.”

I just huffed pushing him away, “Everyone’s mean here.” 

“Are they -?”

“Who are you talking to?” I turned looking to the little voice; it was another boy from my class who I would learn to be named James, David behind him. 

“Loki.” I told him, my voice was strong instead of whiny like it was before with my Prince.

“I can’t see him.” He had bit back looking around.

“No one can except me. He’s my Prince, no one else’s.” 

“My Mum says that if you lie your nose gets bigger. You must lie a lot, your nose is fat.”

“It is not!” I covered my nose tears were building up in my eyes. 

“And so is your ears, you look like a donkey!” James and David started laughing, tears starting to fall. 

“They are not!” I yelled stomping my foot before looking up to Loki. He was glaring at James, his hand moving in the way I knew he was going to happen next. So much so that I didn’t have to look at the boys to know what was going on, James cries and David’s laughter were evident enough. But apparently that wasn’t gratifying enough for me, so I went up to James and pushed him so he fell down, kicking him. Loki’s cheers made me laugh, the sound of an angry teacher making the two of us run away. 

Of course I got in trouble, a lot of trouble and from that day forward I was teased. I was teased as the ugly angry girl who talked to a person that wasn’t there. I was known by the boys as Princess-big-nose while the girls avoiding me like I was some sort of disease.

It wasn’t till half way through the year when I made my first friend, a girl named Billie Dohl. She had come halfway through the year from another school in another district. No one besides my teacher knew why this was; some people thought believed she was kicked out for not being able to fit in the doors. She had long blonde like my Barbie’s plaited into one long plait that traced down her back. Her grey eyes standing out from her chubby angel face, her blue school dress just fitting over her chubby body. 

She had come down to where I sat on the oval with Loki on her third day of her new school, a small smile on her face. 

I had been talking to my art teacher, Ms Pritchard about Loki that day. We had to draw someone who meant the most to us. I had told Ms Pritchard about Loki who just smiled and told me how lovely I had such an interesting friend. Billie must have been in ear shot when she heard me.

“I like it when you talk about Loki, he sounds nice.” She told me standing over Loki and I.

“He is. He’s my best friend.” 

“Do you have any other friends?” She had asked.

I shook my head, “No, everyone teases me.”

“Why?” 

“I have a big nose and I sometimes hit people.”

“I got teased for being fat at my old school. That’s why I moved.” 

“Really?” I asked, Billie sitting next to me, Loki glaring at her presence. 

“I was called BTB.”

“BTB?”

“Billie the Blob.” A little laugh escaped my lips in unison with Loki, the look on her face shutting my laughter off. 

“Do you want to be my friend?” I asked, she smiled a big grin nodding, my own smile spreading. 

I was so happy to have found another friend I hadn’t even noticed till the bell went that Loki had left.


	6. The Boyfriend

Loki and I decided from that point on that he would become my “home friend.” This meant that while I was at school he could go to Asgard while I was away at school. Although, he didn’t just agree on first instance with my proposal, we did have an argument about it. 

Loki was mainly worried and concerned about my safety at school, especially with James and David still teasing me. I on the other hand put up an agreement that if I was in a particular physical peril, he could come and defend me if he thought it was necessary. Also, if Billie was away, he could come to school with me, but only at recess and lunch time.   
We agreed on what I put on the table and honestly our friendship was better because of it. He was able to go to Asgard during school hours and would come home telling me what was going on up there and I would tell him what I learnt at school the games Billie and I played in the playground. Both of us would be excited to tell each other of our days, Loki always giving me tight embraces like I hadn’t seen him for weeks rather than hours. 

I would also look forward to weekends more than anyone else in the class. Mainly because I got to spend two full days with my Prince playing games and talking in our little cubby in the backyard till I was called in for dinner. 

But regardless of all this, Loki held jealously for Billie. It was very event when Billie would come over a play date where Loki was told to go to Asgard again, a glare aimed in Billie’s direction muttering something in lengthy Asgardian as he disappeared. 

While I had a friend at school, the teasing that was happening at school didn’t change. In fact in some ways it only got worse. Billie and I got teased as the, “big twins,” because of her big body and I had the “big” nose. At first both of us didn’t like the name and would both end up in tears to our teachers or in petty arguments that would always get me into trouble. 

Though a year on Billie stopped being the Blob and had slimmed down dramatically. This was mainly because she got involved in rock climbing with her Dad and became a competitive swimmer on the weekends. Her grey eyes and her blonde hair soon became her most striking feature. Soon she was called, “Rapunzel” by her admirers while I was called, “Asgard”, which I didn’t complain about (that much).

My nose by then was secondary to my blue eyes that both Mum and my Prince agreed was becoming my defining feature with my strawberry lips. And even though Billie and I were getting more boy admirers (which in seven-year-old-land is being called names) Billie and I still stayed together just on our own enjoying each other’s company. 

By the time I was eight Billie and I had made friends with another girl. Her name was Jennifer Cruz but preferred to be called Jenny. Jenny was an interesting looking girl compared to the rest of my class. Jenny had bright crimson hair and hazel eyes that stood out from her narrow face. Jenny furthermore was the tallest girl in our class reaching over the tallest in our grade by a couple of feet. With this she was also the skinniest giving her the nickname, “stretch” later on in junior and senior high. 

She had moved over from another school with her father and her younger brother Keith to be nearer the general hospital. The reason being behind this was not only because her Father was a nurse, Jenny was also a type one diabetic. 

“Usually people don’t get type one till they’re older, but I guess I’m lucky.” She had said smiling at the class when she was showing everyone her needles. Jenny was never really ashamed about her early onset of the condition as a child; she used to say that it made her unique. 

Jenny enjoyed her sports and quickly became the best runner and soccer ball player in our year. She also had a striking sense of humour and amazing sense of wit I still envy to this day. 

When Loki heard about Jenny he was extremely interested in her medical condition. We had a whole discussion that went way into the night about what I knew about diabetes from what Jenny had told us.

“I hope I never get it.” I told him under the tent I had made with my covers looking at him lying there next to me. 

“You won’t Princess,” he told me touching me lightly on the nose, 

“Your pancreas is working fine.” He poked me then where the organ is making me giggle. 

Jenny was less interested. While Billie liked hearing about Loki and what kind of person he was, Jenny was uninterested. This was mainly due to the fact she knew about Viking mythology since (like me) her bed time stories were about the Asgardians. 

“But he’s the bad guy…” She told me one night when she had come over for a play date. 

“He’s not, without Loki heaps of good things in Asgard wouldn’t have happened.” Which was true according to the mythology, Loki either started or helped the other Gods out of trouble. Of course, regardless of how smart I was, I never really looked up the mythology to learn about the troubles that Loki’s mischief had caused till later on in life. I just believed on face value that Loki was right saying the stories were false and everyone else, like Jenny, was wrong. 

About this time while I was making strong friendships, my Mum was starting to get back into the dating scene. Every Friday I would found myself at home being looked after by my Grandmother (and Loki) while my Mum went out. She usually didn’t have much luck, due to the fact that most of the men were using the nights as (what my Mum described to my Grandmother as) “a service stop.” And most of the men who were there were usually twenty plus years older than my twenty-nine year old Mother. Although after the three weeks my Mum struck, “luck” with a man named Steven Dent. She and Steven would have dates mostly every weekend for about a month, my Mother always happier after seeing him.

And because of this I was intrigued to meet Steven just as much as I was frightened. It had been my mother and I for two years and for a man who wasn’t the God of Mischief to introduce himself into my life was a scary idea. Also I didn’t really understand why my Mother needed anybody else, 

“She has me and her Mum, why did she need him to make her happy?” I had asked Jenny and Billie the second week into Mum’s relationship.

“Well why do you have Loki?” Jenny had asked making me glare at her stopping from pacing back and forth in the playground. 

“That’s different, Loki’s my friend!” 

“Well maybe that’s what your Mum wants, a friend like Loki.” 

I pulled a face with Billie. “But Louisa doesn’t kiss Loki,” she stared puzzled at me, 

“Right?”

“Sometimes –“ 

“EWW!” 

“- On the cheek!” I finished scowling at them before continuing, 

“And he kisses me every now and again –“

“EWW!”

“NOT in that way!” I yelled shaking my head in disgust. 

“Well in what way?” Jenny asked as Billie gagged. 

“Like a parent would when they tell you they love you or when they are comforting you. Loki loves me his way, not in the way Mum wants from Steven. She wants to have a ‘partner.’ ” I had said re-using the word my Grandma had said the weekend that had just passed. 

“Loki isn’t my partner, just my friend, like you and Billie.”

“So are my Mum and Dad in a partner relationship?” Billie asked confused, Jenny and I nodded. 

Billie looked confused, “I thought they were married…” 

“That’s a type of partnership dummy.” Jenny said rolling her eyes, Billie scowled. 

“I didn’t know that, I’m not as smart as you and Louisa.” She then started another discussion on who on our grade we wanted to marry moving us away from Billie’s confusion. 

The day I finally met Mum’s boyfriend I had been outside with Loki on my swing set. Loki had been sitting on the slide instead of pushing me listening about my day at school. 

That day Billie, Jenny and I had found (what I was describing as) a, “lizard” at recess wanting to keep it and for it to be our, “friendship pet.” Although our grade two teacher made us put it back into the “wild.” 

Loki nodded listening intently as usual watching me swing higher and higher off the ground,

“When did you start swinging so high?” 

I smiled remembering my play date at Jenny’s the day before. She and I were on her swing set and she had told me the technique of pushing harder giving you full strikes with your legs to reach higher heights. I imagine this was common knowledge to other children but to me it was brand new. This was probably because I always had someone pushing me like Loki or my Mother and had never really tried doing it on my own. 

“Jenny taught me!” I told him and decided to show him how I could now jump off the swing too. 

Loki reacted the way I wanted him to by applauding. He lowered one eyebrow with a questioning look,

“Did Jenny teach you how not to be ticklish too?” 

Before I could even give him a, “huh?” look he was up on his feet racing towards me. I squealed finishing it with a giggle running away from my Prince around my backyard. He caught me not long after picking me up tickling me as I thrashed and laughed. We fell to the ground then, though he still tickled me under the chin, my armpits and poked my sides not hearing my giggles to stop. 

What stopped this innocent moment was a bark of a laughter startling Loki and I. We jumped away from another looking up to see who had made that noise.  
Up ahead Loki and I saw my Mother and a medium heighted broad man coming up to us, Loki’s eyes changed to judging slits. 

“Who’s that?” I whispered shifting into Loki’s arms watching my Prince. 

“I think that’s the man your Mother is, ‘dating’…” He said not glancing at me once. Nodding shortly I looked back to Steven with curiosity. 

When my Mum had described him to me a while back, I had pictured a him with a dark hair ragged haircut and blue eyes, his body broad like some sort of Prince charming character. The only thing I was right about was the broad body. Steven had a strong face, his eyes more of a midnight sky blue and his dark hair was shaven to a military haircut. That day he was dressed in a dark blue suit shirt and black jeans.

He knelt down to my level on the ground, “Hello Louisa.” He greeted trying to make his low voice sound less booming. I hid into Loki’s shoulder, his arm had wrapped around me tightly, his velvet voice in my ear, 

“Say hello.” 

I could feel his eyes not leaving Steven’s, like he had been facing off with him finding out his weaknesses with a look.

This gave me courage to mumble a small hello into Loki’s armoured shoulder giving Steven a glance before hiding back into Loki. Loki gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, almost like a well done.

Now to everyone else I would have looked like I was cowering; flinching away from this stranger. This was probably the reason why I felt my Mum brushing my cheek softly causing me look at her. 

“Louisa this is Steven. Y’know the man I’ve been telling you about?”

I nodded at her still not looking at Steven. Her small smile spread, 

“He’s been looking forward to meeting you all day today haven’t you?”

“Yes I have.” I heard him say, “The fellas at the station have heard all about you.” 

“He’s a cop.” Loki told me feeling the tense confusion in my little body. I looked at him confused, 

“Does that mean he catches criminals?” 

Loki nodded tightly with a short glance to me before glaring straight back at Steven.   
“Is Loki here?” Steven asked with an amusement tone to his voice. I had given Steven the same look Loki was giving him. A glare mixed with a, “who else do you think I’m talking to?”

“Are you going to introduce Steven to your Prince?” 

Steven then did the most arrogant thing an adult could do to a child with an imaginary friend. The officer at that moment with a smirk put out his hand out next to me shaking it like he was shaking Loki’s hand. Although that was nothing compared to what he did next, 

“It’s nice to meet you Loki, don’t worry, I will look after Louisa just as much as you have.” 

Now as an adult I see why Steven did what he did. He wanted to get to know me more and so he thought, by interacting with Loki, I would be more open. But from what I’ve read, you should only interact with a child’s imaginary friend when the child says you can. Because then you know it’s ok to do so and the child will trust you in turn. Steven ignorantly skipped that step and that was one of the reasons Loki pushed him over with a magical gush of wind taking my Mother down with him. Loki then proceeded to swear at him in his Asgardian dialogue calling him what I interpreted at that age as being stupid and small.

Steven picked himself and my Mother up laughing nervously. 

“I’m so sorry Sarah, must have been a gush of wind…”

“It’s not windy.” I arrogantly said, Loki chortled.

Steven sighed heavy, “Why don’t you come inside with us? I brought chocolate cake for afternoon tea.” 

“No thank you, I hate chocolate cake.” I had lied and got up out of my cowering position back to my swing set; Loki following behind snickering. 

That night Steven stayed for dinner and tried talking to me again.

“So, Louisa, how many friends do you have?”

“Three. Loki, Billie and Jenny.” I answered bluntly. I remember watching my Mum move around her seat clearing her throat. 

“What do Billie and Jenny like to do?”

“Billie likes rock climbing and Jenny likes playing soccer.” 

“Rock climbing?”

“Yeah, where you climb up a wall.” I answered; Loki snickered again next to me, my Mother clearing her throat with Steven. 

“Is she a cub scout?” 

“No, she’s a rock climber.” 

You idiot, I remember thinking, Loki just kept laughing.

“And Jenny is a soccer player, just to clarify.” I said giving him a bitchy smirk I had seen Loki doing earlier in my life. Steven, seemly not being phased by this just gave it straight back. He didn’t break eye contact as he talked to Mother, just as I didn’t look away from him.

“Louisa sure is cheeky isn’t she?”

“Yes, especially tonight.” My Mother had replied with irritation in her voice.

Steven pressed his lips together, “So what do you like to do Louisa?”

“Drawing and writing stories.”

“What’s your favourite story you’ve ever written?”

“I don’t have a favourite, I like them all.”

“What do you like writing about?”

“Everything I can.” 

I recall feeling extremely uncomfortable, not only because my Mother was cross at me, but also because Steven was looking at me like I was some sort of criminal. Like I was some crook he wanted to bust. And because of that I recall finishing the mash on my plate in one huge fork full running off to bed dragging Loki with me. 

The rest of Steven’s meetings went like this and each time it made me anxious to be around him. I guess he was trying to get to know me but I always felt like I had done something wrong. 

I didn’t really understand why this was till Loki said something. Loki had a theory that he didn’t like me very much.

“Why?” I had asked the day he had brought it up. That day I wanted to pretend the two of us were secret government spies looking at two threats. The threats were made to be my Mum and Steven. We were watching the two of them cuddling up on the couch behind the sliding wooden doors that closed off the living room to the main corridor. The barrier giving Loki and me perfect views of the leather couch and let us listen to them. 

“…I imagine he feels you obstruct his relationship with your Mother.” He told me as we watched. 

“How do I do that?” I had whispered back to him. I looked back at that moment to see Steven’s hand slide across the front of Mother’s body intimately, she giggled kissing him a little longer than I had ever seen in TV shows. 

“Eww,” I sneered a little too loudly and the two jumped away startled. 

“That’s how.” Loki whispered in my ear, Steven’s glare making my Prince’s theory all too true.

However Steven still tried his best to get to know me. He had even given me a nickname. By the time my Mum’s relationship had reached three months I was known to Steven as “Louie.” The only thing I liked being called besides from Louisa at that age was, “Asgard” when I was at school or, “Princess” with Loki. Louie just made me feel like a boy, not cute or grand like my two other names I went by so clearly I wasn’t a fan of the nickname. 

Steven also didn’t seem to like Loki very much either. When I was talking to Loki around Steven he’d always make some sort of noise. Usually it was a grunt or he cleared his throat. Did it stop me talking to Loki?

Not in the sightless. 

By the time their relationship was five months in Steven started asking for Loki and me to be quiet or to take our conversations elsewhere. By the time the relationship was at seven months Steven was starting to lose his temper in a passive aggressive way. Meaning, if I was talking to Loki, he’d start humming or singing. 

Steven always used to sing old sixties songs, something that annoyed both Loki and I. So we started singing back but with Viking songs Loki had taught me over the years as we walked around the house. This clearly frustrated Steven, especially when I started singing in the old dialect. 

By nine months, when I had just turned nine years old, Steven had enough of it.


	7. The Tape

It was on my ninth birthday when Steven expressed that he had enough with my imaginary friend. My ninth birthday started just as all my previous birthdays had with Loki around. I was woken up at dawn with a strong hug and kisses on my cheeks from the God, him laughing and joining in on my cheers of, “It’s my birthday!” and the promise of being older . Then as always, Loki took me out to our chubby house to give me his present.

Loki’s presents, while they were not exactly what children would regard as exciting, were my favorite around my birthday or Christmas (which was something Loki never understood or liked celebrating). It was mainly because Loki’s gifts were always from Asgard. They were either something what other children would regard as plain such as hairbrush or goblet; or something beautiful like a golden hair piece or some sort of flute instrument.

That year Loki surprised me with a beautiful sapphire Asgardian rose. It was very delicate flower, the blue bright against his pale fingers.

“It’s an enhanced rose,” he had told me he passed me the flower. I took it with care petting the delicate petals lightly,

“I fashioned it so it would forever be in bloom alternating its color to Earth’s seasons.”

“It’s blue because it’s winter right?”

Loki smiled snickering under his breathe, “Yes Princess.”

I had touched one of the pricks then not to feel any pain, “The pricks will not harm you, just as I shan't.”

“It’s beautiful Loki,” I told him in awe kissing him on the cheek;

“I love it.”

He chortled pecking my forehead before the two of walked back inside to get a glass of water to put the flower in. The rest of the morning went the usual way of my Mum cooking me my favorite breakfast of banana pancakes giving me my gift afterwards.

For my ninth birthday I had received a book filled with the Viking Mythology stories and a new pale blue dress. Mum and I spent that morning reading out loud my favorite stories on the couch snuggled and ducked under Loki’s arm.

I thought it was going to be like this for the whole day. Just Mum, Loki and I having a lazy morning and early afternoon till my friend’s turned up for the sleepover I had planned. But then Steven turned up “unexpectedly”, both Loki and I sighing heavy slumping down in the family’s leather couch when he walked in the door.

While Steven was heavy involved in my Mother’s life, in my life I didn't want him to be. Yes he was in my home environment every weekend and did interact with me; I still didn't want him around. I hated his presence just as much as I believed he hated Loki’s and especially didn't want him there for my birthday. Nor did I want the present he gave to me.

It was a wrapped up in cheap cheery wrapping paper with a matching cheap card on the top. I remembered Loki looking at me with concern like Steven had just given me a bomb rather than some sort of present. After reading the plain and forced “cheerful” birthday message I unwrapped the present with caution to see what he given me. The smile on Steven face I recall at that time looking sick and twisted as I pulled the last of the wrapping away. Loki making a growling noise with a lengthy Asgardian swear under his breath, his voice filled with the same disgust I was feeling when I saw what was underneath.

To this day Steven’s present was the most insulting gift I've ever received. Not even the crude presents I received as a teenager or an adult could ever top what he gave me for my ninth birthday.

 

Facts of Life - S. Meredith

“Why did you give me this?” I asked with angrier I can still feel to this day.

“I thought you’d want to know what’s coming ahead as you mature and plying on childish fantasies will not help you in the real world.”

I remember looking back to the present then back up to Steven thinking about how much I wanted to throw the grown up book at him and scream. I also remember Loki being extremely silent and that scared me not to hear his witty or angry reply. The look on his face though told me he was as infuriated as I was with his clenched jaw, his thin upper lip seeming to twitch, his green eyes bright with angrier. I could feel his angrier merging with mine, his breathe hot on top of my hair as it panted out. He’s angrier was so real, just as Steven’s smug presence was thinking he had outsmarted and shut me up with his passive aggressive present.

“He’s real.” I arrogantly told Steven glaring at him, Loki grunting with agreement.

Steven glared at me from his height. He went down to my level, Loki growling dropping down to look him straight in the eye.

“Louie…” Steven growled smirking at the end, I remembering felling a stab of fear hit me but I didn't look away,

“I can’t see him or hear him,” He pronounced every word like a snarl,

“So HOW is he real?”

I remember standing myself up taller pressing my little shoulders back, my chin up ,

“Just because you can’t see, feel or touch something, doesn't mean it makes it not real!”

“Louie, Loki is a character from Viking mythology…”

“I know, but he’s real! He’s not just from a story! He’s my friend and he’s real!”

I look back on this incident now and wonder why I didn't just stay quiet. At the time I felt like I had to stand up for my friend but now I just wished I had just been smart and shut up. If I had just been quiet and just taken the, “abuse” in the way I had taken it with my Father, I probably wouldn't have caused the situations that followed.

I was about to tell Steven how much I hated him and his stupid book till my Mother came in with lunch. Before I could react Steven pulled me into a tight hug, Loki snarling calling him insignificant and how he had no right to touch me.

He pulled away just as quickly, his smile aimed at me and then my Mother telling her about the book he gave me. My Mum looked at it grinning broadly commenting to me how nice it was that Steven had gave me a gift which only added to my angrier.

All I was thinking for the rest of the day was how much I hated Steven instead of enjoying my day. I even complained to Billie and Jenny when they came over that night for a sleepover. The two of them, while they did bitch about Steven with me, were still were annoyed that’s all I wanted to discuss was how much Steven hated Loki rather than the usual things nine year olds talk about.

Because, at that stage my friends were more on Steven, “side” than mine. At nine I really should have shut my mouth and stopped talking about Loki. I should have been smart like other children with imaginary friends and kept quiet about Loki. I should have acted like I understood the idea that seeing people that aren't actually there is a not normal. But like I've said before Loki was so real to me it was hard for me to do that. I just wanted people to believe me when I said he was there because they used to when I was a child…

Why would it be any different?

Later on that night after my friends and I had fallen asleep I was woken up again by a delighted Loki.

“Louisa! Louisa! Princess wake up!”

After I stretched feeling the fatigue of only what felt like a couple hours sleep I flinched up at my Prince,

“What?”

Grinning he held up my Mother’s big tub of duct tape she usually kept hidden.

“How did you get that?” I had asked startled, Loki’s smile only spread more,

“Your Mother is not as endowed at concealing things as she believes.” He snickered but I was still confused,

“Why do you have it?”

“Remember that program we watched where the heroin mouth was shut by duct tape?”

Realization had hit my little nine year old conscious then, my blue eyes widening,

“Are we going to duct tape Steven’s –?”

He snickered with a shake of his head,

“Fear not Louisa, I did it for you.”

I grinned up at him feeling his scheming glee mix with mine,

“Did he wake up?”

“No, the oaf was in a sleep that even the All Father would be envious of.”

I giggled into my hands, Loki’s grin softening,

“I did it for you Louisa.” He held my face again looking straight into my eyes,

“That book was inexcusable and is a dishonor to your name and nature. “

I smiled back at him,

“Thank you Loki.”

Loki laughed a little under his breathe shaping the hair near my ear telling me to lie down and go back to sleep. Closing my eyes I don’t think I honestly really wondered what would happen in the morning or whether I’d get blamed. I just felt safe and secure under Loki’s glaze thinking he’d be there forever for me.

The next morning I was woken up by the sound of Billie and Jenny packing up their places on the floor.

“What are you doing? Why are you packing up?”

I asked rubbing the sleep out of eyes sitting up. Billie and Jenny both nudged their heads towards the door where both Steven and my Mother were standing, both of them looking infuriated.

“What’s going on?” I asked the adults, both of them just gave me a look of daggers before telling my friends to hurry alone.

I glanced over at the foot of my bed where Loki was, his intense gaze focused on the ground, his thin lips set in a concentrated almost guilty frown. He gives me a glance smirking at me before looking down again.

Before I could even start wondering why Loki was looking this way my Mother ordered rather than told me to walk my friends out. Feeling extremely confused I did what I was told, again asking my friends what had happened to make them go home so early.

“Whatever you did, it wasn't funny.” Billie snapped giving me a quick stiff hug walking to her Mum’s car.

“But I didn't do anything…”

“Bye Louisa, see you at school.” Jenny replied and mimicked the same hug I received from Billie rushing away to her Father.

What did I do wrong? I remembered thinking to myself watching my friends drive away. Loki’s hand at that moment rested on my shoulder giving me a squeeze, the action triggering something,

The duct tape…

“Are we in trouble?” I asked the God, my voice must have been panicked. Loki clearly not knowing how to answer nodded only once, his expression guilty and irritated.  
At that moment Steven had yelled me back in, I slumped myself inside. I was ordered to sit down on the couch, both of the adults standing in front of me with the postures showing how disappointed they were in, “my” behavior.

“I didn't do it.”

“SIT. DOWN.” Steven snapped.

I slumped down sneaking myself back into the leather cushions. Loki sat with me but at an angle facing both the adults and I. It was then when I first got my proper full look at Steven’s face and his impressive red mark across his jaw.

Loki had clearly covered fully when had applied the duct tape. There was visible tearing to the officer’s side burns where Loki had placed it. Steven’s lips had looked torn ever so slightly showing force had been needed to take it off .

“Louisa, what we’re you thinking?” My Mother asked me making me look away from my Prince’s handy work.

“I told you! I didn't do it! Loki -”

“Louisa! What did I say -?”

“It wasn't me! Loki did it!” I interrupted the officer, my voice had been a lot louder with him then my  
Mother.

My Mother sighed cutting off Steven’s to-be-rant,

“Ok Louisa, Why did Loki do it?”

“Because Loki doesn't like Steven.” I answered her,

“And Loki believed he offended me so he taped his mouth shut so he couldn't do it again.”

I remember watching a flicker of fear cross the adults faces at my answer, the reaction frightening me. Loki on the other hand made a small satisfied sound like it was the reaction he wanted to see.  
Steven had swallowed then taking a calming breathe out, the usual patronizing smile had spread on his face,

“Louisa if it was truly ‘Loki’s’ fault, then why was the duct tape near your bed this morning?”

“Because sometimes Loki sleeps in my room.” I had answered with a clear ‘duh’ expression in my  
voice.

Steven rolled his eyes, both the adults taking a calming breathe out. I remember watching the two of them look at one another feeling extremely nervous and a little annoyed. I knew was going to get in trouble for what Loki had done and that clearly was frustrating me. It wasn't my fault; he did it, not me. But at the same time I kind of proud of what my friend had done for me feeling little smug looking at the red mark across Steven’s face with his facial hair in tatters.

It was honestly the emotions I felt after Loki had told me my Dad had been ‘dealt’ with. Sure I was sad but I felt safer under Loki’s protection. Because after that day I knew he would do anything for me. And that included getting rid of any threats or making a mockery out of them like he had done to  
Steven.

For these reasons I thought I was ready to take the punishment which I thought was going to mean being sent to my room for the rest of the day.

“Louisa…,” Steven started returning my attention back to him,

“…Your Mother has agreed on the disciplinary act I have put forward to her. So, with this said…”

The officer had sighed like the next words would be hard for him to say,

“… We are grounding you for a week –“

“That’s not fair!” I yelled but the office must not have heard me because he continued,

“- You will have no television, your toys will be held at my house along with your books –“

“No! It wasn’t me! You can’t do that! They’re mine!”

“ – And these provisions will stay in place until this Loki business is dropped.”

“BUT HE’S REAL THOUGH!” I yelled hitting the couch with a clenched fist; Loki had jumped away in  
fright,

“YOU JUST CAN’T SEE HIM BECAUSE YOU’’RE STUPID AND MEAN!” I picked up a pillow next to me throwing it at the cop,

“I HATE YOU!” I screamed running out ignoring Steven yelling at me to come back. I ran to my room slamming the door shut on both Mum and Loki’s faces.

I cried then into my pillow people screaming how much I hated them like a banshee, the rattling on my door that I vaguely remember from my Mum yelling at me to open the door I ignored.

After what felt to me like hours I heard my Prince’s velvet voice near me, his voice covered with empathy,

“Louisa, Princess, I’m –“

I sat up and practically jumped into his arms sobbing into his leather armor.

I didn't seem to care that I was grounded because of him. At that moment I just wanted someone to comfort me and to listen to me shout how it wasn't fair. And that’s what Loki did. He held me tight and had let me vent and whine about Steven till I felt no more words till I just sat there in silence with him soothing my hair listening to the God’s beautiful brisk heart beat .

“I want him to hurt and go away.” I had said after a while looking up to my Prince’s handsome face. He wiped my tears away with gentle eyes,

“I can do that if you wish.”

I knew Loki was proposing to permanently get of rid Steven in a similar manner to how he killed my Father. And for a moment I wanted that, I wanted Steven to be dead. But at the same time, I didn't want to upset my Mum nor did I want any more blood on my Prince’s hands.

“I don’t think like that.”

He brought me back into a hug,

“Very well.”

He answered, his voice had held understanding but I also heard some disappointment. It was almost like he wanted to get rid of Steven all together and do it for me or his own self-pride. And I must have felt disappointed as well because after I had said I wanted to take it back. I still wanted revenge for the book, for his discipline idea.

“I want to hurt hum, like you did last night with the duct tape though,” I whispered,

“I want him to hurt like he hurt me and I want to help.” I swallowed heavy a little nervous. Loki had smiled

“Very well but you must listen and do everything I tell you do and trust me.”

I nodded, “I trust you.”

He grinned mischievously at me and we both set to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally on Mibba and AvengersFanFiction this is part of a longer chapter called 'The Prank.' But for the purpose of this site, it's now two chapters.


	8. The Prank

Again looking back on these following events it really does makes me clench, because while I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, I now know what my actions caused.

Later on that day I was told to ask my Mum and Steven what I deemed as an odd question by Loki.  
“Just trust me Princess.” He told me before I went out giving my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Feeling confident I walked into my living room holding Loki’s hand.

Steven had greeted me first, “Hello Louisa, have you came to apologize?”

Ignoring him I turned to my Mother,

“Mum, am I allergic to anything?” I asked confused. Mum was sitting on the coach with Steven, both of them with hot drinks in their laps, a movie I didn't care for playing on the TV.

“No sweet heart, why?”

“I dunno…”

“I’m just curious...”

“…I’m just wondering because Billie, Jenny and I were talking about it last night.” I lied, an impressed  
sound came from my Prince making me want to smile.

I continued, “Billie’s allergic to red bell peppers and chills and Jenny just really hates oranges.” All this was true, the time I was told wasn't.

I watched Steven smirk, “Billie and I have something in common then don’t we?”

“Are you allergic to bell peppers?” I asked in unison with my Mother, Loki chortling behind me to himself.

Steven nodded shrugging,

“Have been ever since I was a kid. I’m allergic to the pepper itself along with the seeds. After I've eaten them I usually get really bad rashes all over my body especially on my neck.”

“So that’s why you never eat my salads!”  
My Mum gasped brushing Steven’s cheek,

“Oh baby you should have told me.”

“I didn't want to be rude.”

Loki and I both grunted making the grown-ups look at me confused and a little offended.

“Was that all Louie?” Steven asked with a smirk. I nodded,

“No apology?”

I shook my head and then walked away to my room, Loki shutting the door with a wide grin to my annoyed expression.

“I hate him so much.”

“I know Princess but he’ll get what he deserves.”

“So why is it great that Steven’s allergic to bell peppers?”

“You’ll see tomorrow Princess.”

“Tomorrow?! But that’s -!”

Loki pressed his hand over my mouth glowering at me,

“Do you wish to mess this up before we've even started?”

I shook my head, frightened of the look and the tone of voice I was getting aimed at me. He sighed taking his hand and looking away almost like he was composing himself before he looked at me again with a small smile.

“Just trust me Louisa, it’ll make sense.”

And sure enough, it did. As usual Steven was over staying his welcome that weekend and was helping my Mother with the garden and veggie patch. Because of the cold some of the plants, according to my Mother needed to be pruned. So, like I was being considerate (and maybe apologetic) to my Mother and her partner I “volunteered” to make sandwiches for lunch.

“I’m going to put some bell pepper in mine; do you want some Mum?” I yelled as I walked back to the house.

“It’s alright love, I’ll go without. But, if you’re going to cut the pepper, make sure you do it with a separate knife, ok? We don’t want Steven to have a reaction.”

“No of course we wouldn't.” Loki snickered next to me making me want to smile but I kept my poker face.

“I’ll remember!” I yelled back and ran into the house to the kitchen.

Loki and I did use a separate knife for the bell pepper, but we used Steven’s bread to wipe the juices and the seeds on. As we made lunch together we made jokes Steven’s allergic reaction and how sweet the revenge would feel.

Looking back on it I wonder if I really honestly understood what my actions were going to cause. Because I remember joking about Steven turning into a Red Skin lolly with Loki and I thinking that was it. That the, ‘rash’ wasn't going to be all that bad. This may have been because I had never really seen an allergic reaction before, not even with my best friend at school.

After we had finished preparing lunch Loki did something to the Steven’s with his spells.

“It’s so he does not notice the seeds.” He told me giving me the plate back. I walked back outside to see Steven and Mum resting on the grass huffing puffing like they’d ran a marathon rather than attending to the garden. When they saw me both of them smiled brightly as I gave them both their  
lunches.

“You made sure not to get any bell pepper in mine right Louie?” Steven asked glazing at me again like I was some delinquent.

I nodded with wide grin, keeping eye contact with the police officer,

“Yep!”

I felt Loki squeeze my shoulder with encouragement, like he was proud of my lies.

“I made sure to use a separate knife and everything!”

I continued partly telling the truth. Steven gave my hand a tight squeeze,

“Thank you Louie, I appreciate the kind gesture.”

I pulled my hand out of his grip smirking then left to get my own sandwich. As I walked back I glanced over my shoulder watching Steven taking in a massive bite of the sandwich, a satisfied look on his face matching my own.

Sure enough Steven was rushed off to hospital in an ambulance with my angry and distraught mother, my grandmother who was suffering from sore joints and pains having to come over to look after me. I was generally in tears when my grandmother told me Steven could have died from the exposure to the pepper. Loki on the other hand wasn't but he still comforted me telling me everything was ok.

“Why did you do it Louisa?”

My Grandmother had asked after I had calmed down cleaning my face in my child hood homes small bathroom.

“Loki told me to do it.”

I told her in a rush, I could feel Loki glaring at me, his hands falling from my shoulders that he’d been squeezing.

“I wanted to get Steven back for the stupid present and for grounding me he gave me. So Loki had an idea and we did it, but I didn't know it would cause Steven to go to hospital! I didn't mean it!” I told her breaking down into tears again.

“Does Loki tell you do a lot of things?”

“Sometimes…” I admitted, Loki exhaling heavy behind me with angrier.

“…But not a lot! This was the first time in a while!”

I tried to recover glancing at Loki who looked away just at that moment making an annoyed sound under his breathe.

“Do you always do what he tells you to do?”

“No.”

I watched my Grandmother sigh heavy,

“Well that’s good at least. Now, let me see the book.”

When I turned Loki was avoiding looking at me, the sight making me want to burst into tears again.

“Loki I’m –“

He sighed giving me a shove out the bathroom telling me to follow my Grandmother.  
The rest of the afternoon my Grandmother and I spent the time making a sorry card, something, even though I was remorseful, I did half hearty. Loki avoided talking to me for the rest of the day.  
I tired telling him I was sorry repetitively throughout the day. The only response I got was when my Grandmother over heard me telling that was ‘enough of that’ and Loki telling me to forget about it. It wasn't till later on when Loki and I made up with a hug, with the God apologizing heavy.

“Why were you angry at me when I told Grandma it was your fault? You weren't yesterday morning…” I had confused.

Loki soothed my hair sighing, “I was not mad Louisa.”

I had looked up at him, “Then what were you?”

At that point the God had decided to distract me by asking whether I wanted to go play hide 'n' seek.

Later on that night when I was supposed to be asleep, my Mum came home. I was still up talking with Loki as usual about things I forget about now, the door closing stopping our discussion.

“How is he?”

My Grandmother asked alerting my attention to the conversation.

“If he’s lucky he’ll be released tomorrow morning, the doctor guesses the seeds must have been covered heavy to get the reaction Steven showed.”

“Is he alive though, yes?”

“Of course Mum! If he wasn't I’d…!”

“Don’t you DARE finish that sentence Sarah! Your daughter didn't mean for Steven to end up like he did!”

“Oh and how do you know that Mum?! How?!”

“You weren't here to wipe up her tears, I was!”

“I don’t understand why she would do something that monstrous.”

“Did you see the book your partner gave her? It’s downright insulting, I see why she and ‘Loki’ reacted the way they did.”

There was a tense silence that felt like it went on forever making me sit up straighter. After what felt like forever I heard my Mum exhale heavy,

“She’s saying Loki set this up?” Her voice sounded tired.

“Yes.” My Grandmother responded with the same exhaustion.

Another silence grew on that made me get out of my bed walking silently to hide near the sliding doors, still wanting to hear the discussion, Loki following me kneeling at my level holding my shoulder.

“Doesn't it concern you that Loki’s still here?” My Grandmother asked, her voice hushed.

“Yes Mum, of course. Louisa’s got two good friends at school and she’s apparently at the top of her class. She doesn't need an imaginary friend anymore. Grant’s gone now and I’m certainly not violent towards her and neither is Steven.”

“So why did she react the way she did Sarah? She obliviously doesn't like Steven as much as you do.”

“Oh Mum we need to do something about Loki.” Mum cut in exhaling again,

“What if he’s some sort of mental illness?”

Loki made a disgusted sound muttering under his breathe something unintelligent.

“Sarah…”

“No I’m serious! If he’s putting her up to things like that, what’s next? Mum this delusion, which it has to be now, could hurt her and damage her life!” Mum yelled getting up then to probably pace the room.

Scared I’d get caught and upset on what I was hearing I went running back into my room throwing myself into bed putting a pillow over my head not wanting to hear the rest.

I had felt Loki touch my shoulder, “Louisa…”  
I shrugged it off,

“Leave me alone Loki.” I muttered sniffing back more tears; Loki’s hand falling off my shoulder, his sad sigh had just been audible.

I must have drifted off like this muting myself to the discussion; the last thing I remember feeling was his hand gripping the hand on top of the pillow and his velvet voice

“I promise you Louisa, I won’t let anyone, and including me, hurt you the way your wretched Father did.”

He kissed my hand,

“I will by no means harm you. I love you my Louisa, my Princess and don’t you forget that.”  
Those words sent me off to sleep smiling,

_Loki’s my friend and Prince, he’s not a monster and he doesn't want to hurt me..._


	9. The Counsellor

Sure enough when Steven had recovered a few days later my possessions were taken away with him to his house. Of course I was upset but I took it well enough as my Mum allowed me to keep Madeline and I started borrowing books from my school’s library reading them instead of my own. This clearly frustrated Steven as I still wasn’t admitting to him or to anyone else that Loki wasn’t real.

I still talked openly to my Prince when I was at home and around Steven although in public I didn’t. I started whispering to the God when we were out, the concerned looks went unnoticed by me.

My Mum was getting worried too about Loki. Up until the bell pepper incident the idea of Loki never really bothered my Mother. Mum thought Loki was a good influence on me as I had learnt things with him such as my ABC’s, how to read better than anyone in my class and my timetables. She also believed that my creativity was border then other children’s with most my reports from my art teachers saying I had a, “deeper and more unique imagination then the other children in my class.”

But after Loki and I nearly killed her boyfriend twice, she started to worry and even be a little scared when I mentioned him. If one of my sentences started with, “Loki told me…” or “Loki said…” She would tell me in a rush she didn’t want to know and walk out on me.

So much so that one night after school I had found myself in what felt like a doctor’s waiting rom. The appointment, I was told by Steven, (who had organised it on, “behalf” of my Mother) was for me to talk to someone. I was clearly distressed and confused because I kept telling my Mum I wasn’t sick, she just reassuring me that this was the thing I had to do.

“Why are we here?!”

I asked looking to Loki, who at that point was pacing back and forth in front of me, his full armour on paired with his golden helmet. This of course only made me more distressed because this usually meant he was getting ready to fight some sort of threat.

“I’m trying to figure that out!”

He had snapped with his face set in a glare, the sight frightening me.

“Sorry.”

He rolled his emerald’s at my apology and started stalking again only to be startled at the yell of my name followed by what I thought was as a female ‘doctor’, coming down the hall.

She looked kind and had a beautiful dark skin tone with the brightest smile I had ever seen. Her dark almond eyes warm along with her posture as she stood with her red clipboard.

“Louisa Miller if you’d like to come with me.” She told me softly and motioned towards her, her gesturing soft.

I crossed my arms over my chest,

“I’m not sick; I don’t need to see you.” I told her, Loki agreeing with a murmur.

I would have liked this doctor to have smiled at me and then walk back calling for another person but she didn’t. Instead she waited patiently till my Mum had to walk me into the office, Loki following with heavy footsteps.

“But I’m fine!” I protested as my Mum sat me down in the ‘doctor‘s’ ultra-clean office at a red table. This table had drawing utensils scattered across it with two blank pieces of paper opposite to one another on it.

My Mum sighed heavy kissing my head,

“Just behave and talk to this lovely lady. I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

She gave my hair a stroke and walked out, Loki watching her with a judging look. As soon as the door shut the doctor asked me with a sweet voice if I would like to draw with her drawing my eyes away from my Prince.

“How will this help you know whether I’m sick or not?” I asked the woman watching her start to draw. Loki at that point passed my view to read the framed qualifications hanging on the white walls with eyebrows creased.

“Because I’m not sick.”

She pressed a empathic smile,

“I’m not that kind of Doctor Louisa, I want to be your friend and get to know you that’s all. And your Mother says you love drawing and telling stories.”

“I do.” I answered with a bit of arrogance; Loki had turned then looking worried.

“Louisa there’s something I must tell –“

“Well what about you show me how good of a drawer you are?” She interrupted my Prince, the counsellor clearly noticing my excitement to show off,

“What’s your favourite thing to draw?”

“Louisa, remember that woman in the hostile? I think –“

“I like drawing Loki; he’s been my best friend since I was little.”

“Well what about you tell me what Loki looks like and we both can draw him?”

The doctor (or as I got to know her) Samantha drew with me then as I told her about Loki and what he looked like not hearing him trying to warn me. She asked me about Loki questioning things like what was my first memory of him and our favourite game to play together. She also asked how he felt on my five senses wondering how clear his voice was, if I could feel and smell him like a solid object.

After I had finished my picture she ended the session asking me if I’d like to come back next week to draw with her again.

“No.”

“Yes please.” Loki snapped as I replied smiling over to the woman leaving her.

That night I didn’t listen to Loki’s hints about Samantha, I repeated what she had told me at the start of the session, ignoring him trying to get my attention.

The next sessions went like this over the six weeks I went. She asked me about Billie and Jenny, my Mum and her boyfriend and school. She did this while I was occupied on the task I had in front of me, which ranged from drawing to playing some sort of board game. Majority of the time though she asked me about Loki, asking me about what kind of person he was and how he helped me.

“He said that he’ll always look after me and won’t anyone hurt me, like my Dad did.”

I told her and that started another discussion on the violence I was subjected to and how Loki helped me through that time. I told her about him being able to lock un-lockable doors, his magic making it easier for me to run away and even my theory that he killed my Dad in prison.

“Do you like that Loki did that for you?” Samantha asked me after I told her that, I looked up to Loki who was just glaring across at the woman, his helmet lowered like he wanted to ram her with his horns from what I now considered his far corner in the room.

“Sort of. I like that he won’t ever come back to hurt me but I miss having a Dad sometimes.”

“Doesn’t Steven count?”

“No.” Both Loki and I snapped in unison, his coming out like a snarl.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Loki said so and I believe him.”

I was unaware that I was getting assessed as she talked to me, the questions all linking to a disorder. After what I think was around six to eight sessions later my Mum went in with Steven instead of me leaving me outside, Loki looking distressed and extremely upset as we read the children story books together till they came out.

What felt like hours upon hours my Mum and Steven finally came out. I was shocked to see my Mum crying as she exited the office, Samantha handed a piece of paper to a stern looking Steven while holding up two fingers.

“Mum what’s wrong?”

I had asked panicked rushing over to her, my Mum bringing me into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry sweet heart,”

She cried into my ear soothing my hair,

“Oh my poor baby girl…”

She sobbed turning me away from Steven and Samantha. I found Loki’s eyes over her shoulder; he was glaring up to the doctor with hatred I recognised him giving to my Father and to Steven. He then sighed smirking at me, his eyes sad.

I had no idea what was ahead of me at that moment, I was so concerned and unsure. What had Samantha told my Mum to make her cry? What was on that piece of paper? What was going on?


	10. The Pills

At the age of nine I was assessed as having an early onset of schizophrenia, my “delusions” were auditory and the visual kind. According to the psychologist at the time it was odd that a child of nine could still have an imaginary friend, considering that I had such a supportive home environment, a good set of friends and was considered being beyond my years with my cognitive development.

This theory is still believed by some child development professionals today. They consider imaginary friends past early childhood years means the child could develop a serious psychiatric disorder. The other professionals in this instant, who believe imaginary friends are part of a normal social-cognitive development, obliviously weren't part of this clinic.

I was given pills to take that made me woozy each time I took them, kind of like Annabelle’s pills in Drop Dead Fred. Only except Loki didn't go away or get sick like Fred does in the movie. Loki just got more angry and sad screaming lengthy Asgardian abuse at my Mother who was administering the pills, unaware of the impact.

My school grades went down and I was seen to be in a vacant state when I was in and out of the class room. I remember Jenny telling our teacher that I could be having a high-po because I walked and swayed like I was intoxicated. Loki started coming to school with me then telling me to focus on him, which was the only thing I seemed to be able to do, especially when I thought I was going to pass out. He would always be near me, his voice always the loudest against the throbbing when at school and at home.

After a week and half of taking the pills, my condition was at its peak. The time in between the pills I would get throbbing migraines that I used to describe to my Mother like needles were being pushed into my head. My Mum then would consider taking me back to the client but Steven pushed her on into giving me the pills.

“She’s still talking about him babe, don’t you think that’s a bit concerning?”

I heard Steven ask with a hushed voice. I had been sitting on the couch curled up with my Prince petting me hair, some movie I was having trouble concreting on playing in front of me.

“But she’s complaining about her head throbbing! Steven each morning I have to shake her awake! I don’t think these pills are good for her.”

Loki and I had perked up at the growing silence from the kitchen. Loki and I hoping for the sound of Steven admitting to my Mum she was right and to stop giving me the pills.

Instead we got a loud sigh,

“Just give them a few more days, if she’s still talking about Loki then we’ll ask for an alternative.”

Loki tensed up, a snarl sound coming out his mouth frightening me. He kissed my forehead soothing me again bring me closer to his heartbeat.

“It’s alright Princess, we’ll get rid of them.”

That night I watched Loki bury them in the backyard with my blanket over my shoulders, my Madeline doll pressed into against my chest. When he had finished he let me stomp on top of it, his own stomp more brutal then the little tap I could manage.

The next morning I remember sitting at the kitchen table with a throbbing headache, my body feeling lump like I hadn't slept at all. Steven (who had stayed the night before) found out straight away they weren't there as I watched my Mum go through the cupboards.

“Where did you put them Louie?”

He asked walking to me leaning over the table. I stayed silent rubbing my sore head,

“Mummy my head hurts.”

I tried to say but from memory it came out slurred.

“Where are they Louie?” Steven asked again gritting his teeth.

“They hurt my head, I don’t like them.” I mumbled resting my head in my hands, the throbbing was getting worse.

“Mum my head really, really hurts!” I yelled with tears felling myself start to sway.

“Well if you had your pills your head wouldn't be hurting. The pills are for your own good Louie!”

I moved to quickly to tell Steven to go away and stop with the nickname, so quickly everything went black and my head slammed into the table, the last sound was Loki and my Mother’s panicked screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, clearly this chapter is far from the truth.
> 
> No psychologist (to my knowledge) would diagnose a nine year old as being schizophrenic or would you have the type of reaction Louisa had to the drugs she was given in this chapter. Most women schizophrenics are usually diagnosed from 25 to 30 years of age and they take anti psychotic drugs and may develop tardive dyskinesia (Google it) after prolonged use.
> 
> So if you know someone who has schizophrenia or have the condition yourself, this chapter is not meaning to offend you or them. I just made it more dramatic to suit the ending I wanted.
> 
> And plus, I’m writing in the Marvel Universe where people have claws coming out their hands and you can get spider powers from a radioactive spider bite rather than weeks in hospital. So I think I get to have a little bit of creative license, don’t you?


	11. The Hospital

I had collapsed was sent to the hospital straight into the emergency ward. Apparently, my brain had some sort of seizure and because of that the doctors put me into an induced coma. When I came out Loki was the first person I saw with my Mother, their eyes red with tears. My Mum was apologizing over and over again telling me it was all her fault while Loki was silent just smiling brightly at me.

Remarkably there was no damage despite the fact if people took the medication I was taking and wasn’t schizophrenic, they would have interesting side effects such as their pleasure brain cells being damaged or weight gain. I like to think Loki helped me heal somehow, since he told me he never left my side, his hand holding the other hand my mother wasn’t when I woke.

My Mother and I were told by the nurses and the doctors not to take the pills again and for my Mother to consider suing the psychologist clinic for the false diagnosis . Since after tests it was found I didn’t have any sort of psychiatric disorder, only (then) an injured but well developing brain.

“Whoever this Loki is, you don’t need to worry about him.”

One doctor had said on my last day of my three week stay in hospital, Loki squeezed my hand hard then like he was reassuring me with the information I already knew. I looked up at him with a bright smile expecting a big one in return with a secret wink but instead a sad one, his green eyes shining with tears.

I asked him with a look whether he was ok, he just nodded sniffing gripping my hand tightly,

“I’m just thankful my Princess is ok.” He whispered, his voice catching looking away from me as we walked out the hospital.

At the time I wondered why Loki was so upset and was holding so tightly onto me all the way home. Or why every time I moved away for a moment Loki he would bring me back to him gripping me like I was about to fall off a cliff away from him. I thought it was because he missed me and was scared if he let me go, I would fall straight back into a coma again.

But I know the reason now.  



	12. The Confession

That night I was put to bed with heaps of kisses on my face by my Mother telling me she was so glad I was ok. After I was tucked in and had been read a story I turned to Loki. He had been standing near the door, the furthest distance he’d been from me all day.

While Loki had been close, the two of us really didn’t talk all that much that day. This was mainly because of all the attention I had gotten after being released from hospital. My two friends had dropped in separately for a little visit, while my Grandmother rang me as she had been unable to come visit me because of other commitments (that I would not know of till much later.)

Loki smiled tightly walking over to me petting my hair. His sad green eyes were staring straight into mine almost like he was searching for any more damage,

“I thought I lost you for a while.” He whispered,

“I thought you dead…I thought I’d -”

He swallowed tightly looking away. I remember very clearly watching his lips wobble, something I had seen my Mother doing throughout the day.

I sat up and both of us hugged tightly. I felt Loki’s soft lips kissing my crown and my cheek, his body shaking. When I pulled away I saw he was weeping silently. Concerned, I wiped away his tears looking into his emerald eyes. I thought I saw worry and even fear in his eyes,

“I’m ok now Loki, I’m fine. I’m not going to be taking those pills anymore.” I told him thinking he needed to be reassured I was going to be ok.

He grasped my hands smiling softly,

“You know you are the most important mortal to me don’t you Princess?”

I nodded watching him smile softly which made me smile a little,

“And you know Louisa, my beautiful remarkable little Louisa,” He touched my cheek delicately smiling softly at me,

“That I love you and care for you more than any possession or article I ever own.”

I nodded again smiling at him just as softly grasping his hand,

“And for me to see you lying down with such a vacant expression –“He swallowed heavy, a stray tear falling down his face splashing onto our joined hands that I remember tingling against my skin.

“-It scared me because I never, ever want to lose you.”

“You won’t though. I’m always going to be yours and you’re always going to be mine.”

Loki bit down on his lip for a moment before smiling brightly,

“Yes, I will always be your friend.”

“And my Prince.” I kissed his cheek hugging him tightly, both of us relaxing into each other’s arms, Loki making a content sound, like he was happy, like he never wanted to let go. And I was the same, I was happy in his arms thinking we were always going to be friends. We stayed like this for what felt like forever as he’s strong arms held me as I held him.

When we pulled away Loki laughed softly before he tucked me back in. As he did I told him that I was allowed a day off from school tomorrow excited I got to spend it with him. Loki just nodded along to my plans listening to how much I was looking forward to my Mother’s promised breakfast in bed and the games we were going to be playing together.

“We can play Hide and Seek too if you want to. That’s your favourite!” I told him giggling; Loki smiled soothing my black haired head,

“I would like that very much.”

I giggled making Loki laugh under his breathe.

“Well, you better sleep Princess as that sounds like a big day ahead for the both of us.”  
“Tell me a bedtime story first. But I want an Asgardian one, with you in it,” I told him smiling athim,

He rolled his eyes,

“Your Mother read to you before.”

“Please.”

Loki smiles,

“Very well Princess. Make room.”

He climbed over the top of me so he was longing on my bed frame. He thought for a while as I watched him and had noticed how his emerald eyes were shining again with tears. Before I could ask him why he began telling a story of a battle in Nornheim where he was sure he and his brother along with the Warriors Three and Sif we’re going to die. He defined every detail with crisp description of the battle as I watched it play across my imagination. I was watching Thor and his warriors hitting the vile looking threats, knocking some out unconscious, killing others. In my imagination Loki looked the most dashing amongst them all in the background devising the enemy with his illusions, magic and knife skills.

As I listened sleep had begun to sneak up on me. But like a tired child at a campfire waiting for the promised marshmallows, I was determined to hear the end. Loki described watching his fellow Warriors suffering with Thor watching his Brother get more and more nervous as the Asgardian body count climbed. He soothed me as I shivered in fear seeing so clearly in my mind Thor’s distress as he darted his crystal blue eyes back and forth across the battlefield, Loki looking just as panicked.

Loki then, in dramatic detail told me how he had helped his brother and his friends get them out of the battle by covering the area in mystic smoke covering the whole group, Thor yells telling everyone to follow him as they escaped back to Asgard. When I heard that my Prince was safe, it was like my fatigue had crashed into me with its full force, my eyelids too heavy with sleep to watch Loki’s expressive face.

My last sight before I closed my eyes was my Prince’s torn eyes brimming with tears , a small smile on his face as he watched me drift off.

Just as I fell into a deep sleep I felt his soft lips brush my forehead,

“Good night Princess Louisa.”


	13. The Loss

The next morning I woke feeling refreshed and almost brand new. Smiling I remembered having a satisfying stretch, my excitement for a full day with Loki had woke me up more.

“Morning Loki!” I yawned.

I looked around my room and even now still feel my heart stopping in its tracks.

“…Loki?” I asked, my heart beat returned and was racing against my chest.

It was just me, all on my own. My Prince wasn’t at my door, or at the foot of my bed smiling like he would be most mornings.

“Loki…?” I called again and had climbed out of my bed running over to my cupboard. I thought with a sprite of excitement that Loki wanted to start early on our Hide ‘n’ Seek game. I remember giggling throwing the cupboard door widely excepting to see my Prince. Instead I was met with my hanged clothes. Panicky I looked under the bed and then through my draws and my toy box chanting, “Loki” over and over.

But he wasn’t there.

On the edge of tears I threw on my shoes and rushed out the house into my backyard chanting my Prince’s name over and over as I looked.

“Loki stop it! I don’t like it!”

_He’s here somewhere…_

“Loki it’s not funny anymore!”

_He’s just hiding and letting me found him..._

“Loki where are you?!”

_He wouldn’t leave me…_

“LOKI COME OUT!”

_He can’t leave me…._

“LOKI!”

He can’t….

I looked around my swing set, the tree we climbed and my cubby house. All I found was empty spaces, not Loki smiling mischievously. I raced back inside looking under the table, behind and in the couch heavy crying to the point his name probably wasn’t even coming out probably.

“Louisa what’s going on?”

I ignored my Mother still searching determined he was still there tossing cushions and washing everywhere.

_He’s here somewhere…_

_e’s just hiding and letting me found him..._

_He can’t leave me…._

_He can’t…._

“LOUISA! STOP THIS!”

At that moment in my hysterical state I picked up my Viking mythology book ignoring my Mother’s angered shrieks. The book sent a state of almost calmness through me looking at the page that the book had flipped to. It had opened to Loki’s page; my drawing of Loki had been stick on over the original with adhesive tape. In my drawing he was dressed in his black, green and gold armour, his left fist just sitting in front of his face with his elbow resting on his upright left leg. He had had his small wicked smile on his face, his green eyes soft and kind but bold and brave.

_Why would he leave me?_ I thought new tears brimming, my body feeling overwhelmed and heavy with sadness dropping to the carpet wailing.

My Mum at that moment snuck to the ground bringing me into a hug. I gripped onto her tightly crying louder than I had in a long time.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?”

“I can’t found him!” I sobbed loudly gripping onto her feeling heavy and overcome with loss.

“Where did you last see him?” She said petting my hair repetitively.

“Before I went to bed but I’ve already checked in my room and he’s not there!”

“I can help you look –“

“You can’t see him!” I yelled pushing her away so she fell down on the carpet, her bright blue eyes hurt,

“No one can but me! You can’t help!” I yelled at her getting up stagging to my room slamming the door behind myself hiding myself in the closet.

I stayed there crying for the rest of the morning with each passing moment hoping for him to hear my cries and to able to feel his slender hand on my shoulder, his velvet voice telling he had returned and it was alright Princess.

The only hand I felt was my Mother’s later on, her, ‘no sweetheart’ cracking when I address her subconsciously as Loki, my heart picking up at the possibly. She took me into her arms then soothing me as I wailed with no tears.

“I shouldn’t have gotten sick…” I mumbled into my Mum’s shoulder through my hysterics,

“Oh sweetheart,” she mumbled and brought me tighter against her chest,

“Sometimes friends like Loki don’t stay around forever. Maybe Loki thought you needed to see the world without him, make some mistakes on your own.”

“But I don’t want to do that. He’s my Prince; we’re supposed to be together forever after.”

_“I never, ever want to lose you.”_

“He told me he never wanted to lose me and that he was always protect me,”

_“I promise you Louisa, I won’t allow anyone hurt you that way again.”_

“So why would he leave?” I asked my Mum pulling away to look at her eyes, hoping and wishing so much she had the answers like she always did. Hoping she could tell me why because I didn’t know.

I didn’t know or understand why he would ever or even want to leave. He told me he loved me practically every day, told me he would always be there for me and then he just disappeared.

It didn’t make any sense to me then and it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me now.

My Mother had smiled empathically stroking my hair,

“I don’t know Louisa. I wish I did sweetheart but I don’t.”

I hiccupped glazing at the door then to my Mum again,

“I’m going to keep looking for him.” I had told her, determined I would find my Prince.

But I didn’t. That day, one of the slowest days in my life went with me not finding Loki. I didn’t eat once that whole day nor did I really talk much to anyone. My eyes were too busy on the horizon and in dark areas trying to find Loki, trying to find little hints like he used to give in our hide ‘n’ seek games. I followed little movements of leaves and kept an ear out for a bark of dog telling me where to turn.

As I got more desperate I waited to see the wind blow hard against the plants to the direction I thought he’d be hiding. As I had begun to cry and wail I waited to see his black boot or one his slender hands waving at me behind the object he was concealed behind. As I had begun to scream I had waited for the comforting and safe arms of my Prince and his velvet voice to reassure me. But all I got was my Mother’s arms that I would bury myself into crying.

What I think only made the day worse was that when I went to go found Loki’s presents, in the box I kept them in, hoping that maybe holding them would make it better...  
They were all gone.

Nothing was left except the rose. On that particular day I remember it being a bruised red, my fingers had looked extremely pale against it. I found the rose instead of in-between my bed and beside draws, it was on top of my draws busking in the warm autumn sun.

It was there where it stayed listening to me beg on and on that night for my Prince. But alas, he did not come back.

For the next month I was in what my Mother called it, “my cacoon.” I spent most days wondering around looking under and around things with a vacant expression. I didn’t talk to anybody nor did I look at anybody in the face.

I went from a loud outspoken to a shy and lost looking nine year old girl not knowing how to communicate with anyone aside from my Mother. Billie and Jenny nearly stopped being my friends for that time period because it was so hard to talk to me. Mainly because, if I did talk, all I would talk about was my Prince. Billie and Jenny tried on a number of occasions to distract me with visits to New York, (which was only a half-an hour drive away) to the zoo and other attractions. If I went, I would either just scan the horizon for the possibility of Loki hiding in the shadows or fake smiles and cheery comments to convince my friends I was ok.

Every other weekend I would either spend the time looking for him around my back and front yard or going to places with my Mum where I had been with Loki. We would look in plaes like the park, the shopping centre and the library. Everywhere we went to look for Loki I caused damage by knocking things over like displays, going under dressing hooks, throwing objects around while screaming his name out. Mum and I would always get kicked out soon after by the shop assistants or owners with me in hysterical tears and my Mother deeply embarrassed. Though, as soon as we were out, I was back to being silent crying softly shuffling around the place.

We even tired the woman hostile we spent a week in all those years ago. The women, who I couldn’t remember there understood more and even wanted to help me look. But of course, Loki wasn’t there. He wasn’t any of these places and nor would he ever be.

I don’t understand why my Mother encouraged it but I believe it was her way of being there for me. Either that or she wanted me to find Loki just as much as I did.

The only times I saw Loki was in my dreams. I would always be in my backyard pacing back and forth telling him to come back, most nights I would get no reply. Other times I would get a person coming back although they were all the people I didn’t want to see. Steven, Aidan, my Father. Then the rare times I would get Loki’s voice floating in the air around me,

“Forget me Louisa, please.” He’s voice would beg.

“I don’t want to!” I would yell back at it.

“Please Louisa, it be easier for both us…”

“NO! COME BACK!”

“I am sorry Louisa…”

“PLEASE!”

And that’s when I usually would wake up either in tears or in my Mother’s arms shh-ing me.  
As I looked for Loki I began to start to blaming myself. I started thinking how much it was my fault. I was the reason Loki went away.

If I had been as smart as he was, he would still be here. It was because of how stupid I was he went away.

If I hadn’t blamed him for the idea of the capsicum prank or for taping Steven’s mouth shut, he’d still be here.

If I’d just listened to him and not gone to see Samantha, he would still be here.

If I hadn’t got sick and gone to hospital, he would still be here. He only left because he didn’t want to be around someone sick and gross like I was.

If I had just held onto him tighter, he would still have been there in the morning.

These were some of the thoughts, some of the reasons I thought Loki went away. And as naïve as it sounds, I still believe some of them.

I made sure to study everything and to excel at everything in high school and at university because I’m afraid, if I don’t know enough, people will go away.

When I get sick my anxiety is far worse than the snotty nose.

When I hug people I hold onto them extra tight.

And finally it’s the reason why for the first six months to a year without him I become very possessive over everything I touched. I had trouble, and still have trouble throwing things out. Granted now I’m not holding onto rubbish and other useless things like I was when I was 9 and 10.

Now it’s just old textbooks, drawings, newspaper articles and other things I think I might need later on while others think I don’t need them at all.

The psychologists I’ve seen seem to think that I thought if I threw away the rubbish, I might be throwing Loki away. If I was to throw out the rubbish, I had to make sure I looked it over three times before I put it in the bin. The psychologists believe that while consciously I had given up; my subconscious was still looking for my imagination.

Although this theory contracts the other theory that they believe I made Loki go away because I was angry at him.

According to them, I was angry at Loki because I felt; somewhere in my subconscious that he was the reason I went to hospital. Not the pills or not keeping my mouth shut, it was his fault. They believed I had subconsciously acted out in revenge.

I want to say I don’t believe in this, but the theory does sound very plausible. I could have thought it was his fault. But at the same time,

Why did I grieve for so long and so dramatically if I had subconsciously got rid of him?

The answers to that is usually,

“Everybody grieves Louisa.”

“Loki was a big part of your childhood regardless of whether you made him up. He was still there for you in the times of the abuse or the confusing time when your Mother was with Steven."

Steven was still a part of my Mother’s life during all of my frantic looking and self-blame. He avoided me for this whole time only really greeting me in the mornings and slight nods or acknowledgements. I don’t really remember him being affected all that much. I remember through glances noticing him glaring at me every now and again but I regarded that as normal behaviour for him so I thought nothing of it. I did remember him storming out a couple of times when I was crying on the floor muttering about, “fucking kids” and being annoyed I had hidden them.

I never expected him to snap the way he did.

I was on my usual morning routine of checking under surfaces when Steven had gotten up early and seen me. This behaviour by this point must have been pissing him off just as much as it was pissing me off that from not finding the God.

As I was looking under the couch pillows I had been pulled away, the force of the Police officer pull making me knock my nose onto the couch and bleed instantly.

Crying and screaming in fright Steven flipped me on my back with a wild mad expression on his face. He then pinned my shoulders under only one of his large clumpy hands with the other on top of my mouth to silence my screaming. I remember trying to struggle even though I couldn’t really move under his grasp and still screaming for my Mother.

“You need to stop this stupid behaviour! Do you understand?!”

I had been thrashing back and forth as he had demanded down at me, his midnight blue eyes looking beady and deranged with authority.

I had flinched away from him and was about to kick him but he pushed one of his knees into my leg, my crying had grown louder due to the soaring pain my leg.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! YOU MADE HIM UP! YOU MADE HIM GO AWAY SO STOP FUCKING LOOKING FOR HIM!”

He’s hand around my mouth then pressed harder, his thumb and index finger squeezing over my nose so I couldn’t breathe. He leaned in, his eyes and face just inches from mine,

“Do. I. Make. Myself. CLEAR. LOUISA?”

At that moment Steven was pushed off me, my Mother looking over him thick with rage.

“Get out of my house away from me and my daughter.” She had demanded with a calm but still rather lethal tone.

Steven had stood up then, both of his hands out in defence,

“Sarah I was just trying to get through –“

“No, you do not man handle her. You get out of my house and let me parent my daughter.”

“But she’s –“

“Get out Steven or I swear to God I will ring the Police for abusing my child.”

Steven then stormed out the house slamming the door behind him not saying a word. My Mother then knelt down to my level to check my injuries and to give me a hug as I cried heavy just as she did. I wasn’t sure if she was crying over me or her heartbreak, much like how I was unsure whether I was crying out of fear or over the God of Mischief.

That day was also the day where my Mother finally let me check my Grandmother’s for Loki. A place I hadn’t realize my Mum had been putting off for the past month. We hadn’t been there for so long nor had I seen much of my Grandmother after that night she had come over to look after me.

I vaguely remember my Mother on the phone to her each night during my vacant time; only mainly because I heard mine or Loki’s name being mentioned. My Mother had tried each night to get me to talk to my Grandmother but I didn’t want to talk to her as I was too busy looking around things.

So when we finally did go see my Grandmother, I was in for a shock.


	14. The Dis-ease

The car drive to my Grandmother’s that day was awkward with neither my Mother nor I talking. Although my mind was racing with the usual beliefs I had as to why Loki left along as to why I hadn’t seen my Grandmother for so long. 

After my Father had been sent off to prison and had eventually died I began seeing my Grandmother every second weekend and practically begun like a second parent to me. And while I haven’t truly touched on my Grandmother’s influence in this, she did have a profound one in regards to my upbringing just like my Mother and Loki did. 

Without her I wouldn’t know a lot of things such as personal respect, manners and how to care for plants. 

So why hadn’t I seen her for so long?

I naïvely thought at one point that she might have found Loki and was keeping him to herself. Because even though Loki found my Grandmother irritating, he did actually a deep respect for her. He once said that my Grandmother reminded him of his own Mother with her sternness or her patience’s when she was teaching a skill to me. Loki also loved my Grandmother’s garden and when we played Hide ‘n’ Seek it was one of his favourite places to hide due to all of the different types of flowers and brushes. 

So when we arrived, with this in mind, I practically jumped out the car running up ahead going straight to the backyard not hearing my Mother’s yells to, “say hello to Grandma first.” 

Like with everything those first two months without Loki, he was the only thing on my mind.

I was looking through every flower brush and around every flower pounding the ground every time I went to look under. I was calling Loki’s name out with every look, my voice had gone from hopeful cries to panicky shouts. I tried every bush, every hedge, every corner but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

A couple of times I mistook a green flash as he’s grand green cape. When I thought I saw Loki all the hollow and empty feelings that I had been having disappeared replacing it with joy and relief. Only for this to flatten for me to realize that this time it was truly my imagination. 

I looked for a good hour around her yard, my yelling by that point was crocked and tired, unwanted acceptance settling in that Loki was in fact gone. 

He was no longer my Prince as I was no longer a Princess.

With burning cheeks from my tears I walked back towards the house. I kept my head down most of the way wrapped in my own self-pity not even bothering to look up. All I was thinking was that he was gone, the idea to check through my Grandmother’s house pushed away. 

It was almost like fatigue had just sunken in for me. I was too tired to look anymore; I had finally given up after two months of always being on alert looking for him. I had looked everywhere where I thought Loki would be and where I thought he wouldn’t. My Grandmother’s garden had been the last straw on the horses back as the saying goes. 

It was only when I was near the end of my Grandmother’s grand garden was when I become aware of my audience. Up ahead I saw my Mum and my Grandmother standing on the edge of the garden and the court yard with another woman holding my Grandmother up. From memory she was dressed in a bright purple scrub, her blonde hair in a high bun away from her angelic face. 

All three women were standing there looking at me with a heavy looks of sadness, which I thought instinctively was for me.

“He’s not here.” I told them, my words seem to suspend themselves in the air making me feel like they didn’t hear me. 

“He’s gone Mum. Loki’s not here.” I said again with my voice wobbling hoping to see some emotions for me across their faces. 

The only emotion I got was from the stranger holding my Grandmother who pressed her wobbling lips together with a regretful stare in her eyes.

My Mother held out her hand to me in the growing silence,

“Come on Louisa, there something we have to tell you.” 

Confused I took the hand looking over to my Grandmother. It was then when I noticed that my Grandmother was looking older than she usually did, her blue eyes not having the usual spark in them. She looked tired and vacant, the way I had seen some other seniors who were much older than her. 

“Are you ok Grandma?”

She gives me a grasp on my shoulder that held none of the strength I was used to with my Grandmother. I remember seeing her nod only once, the action had made her flinch.

“Why…Why don’t we….we go and have some tea darling?” She asked her voice croaking and creakingly, again not holding her grand high class English accent I was used to. 

“Grandma what’s wrong…?” I had asked, my voice breaking, the sorrow I had for the loss of my Prince going to my Grandmother. 

My Mum grabbed my hand, “You’re Grandma’s very sick Prin – sweetheart.”   
“Sick…?” I asked, my little brain going over all the times I had seen my Grandmother sick, ever time the same phrase coming up. 

“Just a cough sweetheart …”

“Is it just a cough Grandma…?” I had asked smiling a little, hoping to hear that response. 

“Come on Louisa; let us go make a cup of tea, hmm…?” Mum asked her voice breaking just as I watched a tear slide down my Grandmother creased and slacked cheek. 

It had been found out that my Grandmother had skin cancer about three months ago after she had looked after me while my Mother was in hospital with Steven reaction I had caused. They had originally only found a tumour in her back but after taking that out they continued to found more and more. 

In her joints, her lungs, her ovaries, her thyroid, her stomach and her breasts were some of the places where the cancer was found. She didn’t tell my Mother or me any of this as I was in an coma at the time. She didn’t want the attention to taken off me so she had kept quiet putting on a brave face like she always had.

She only told Mum a month before through phone conversations, again she didn’t wish to upset me by seeing her like this as I was already a wreck with trying to find Loki.

She wanted to get better before she saw me, but after being told the cancer was just going to get worse, she finally put herself first and wished to see me even if I was still grieving over losing my Prince. 

And when I saw my Grandma like this and had been honestly explained what was going on with her, I wanted to cry but I didn’t. Because while I was watching my Grandma that day, I was also watching my Mother.

It was like Loki had blocked me from seeing certain things. Only when I accepted that fact that Loki could never be coming back was when I saw my Mum being capable of emotions. It seems silly to think, but most children think their parents to be strong willed people who can rescue them from most things. But at that moment, I saw my Mum as fragile woman who was about to lose her Mother, her only support left in the world. After she was gone, Mum was the last reminding member of her family.   
And by seeing all of this, naturally I wanted to be there for her. 

I practically pushed away my sadness for my Grandma and turned to looking after my Mum. When the house needed cleaning, when the washing needed to be put on and even when dinner needed to made, I made sure to do all of this to the best of my ability.

I don’t know how I did it so easily or whether I was actually thinking, I need to help my mum. I guess I just did it. 

Much like Annabelle did in Drop Dead Fred now I think of it. After her Father left along with practically her only friend, she decided subconsciously she needed to be strong to live with her “mega-bitch” of a Mother. 

Now I’m not saying my Mother turned into a depressed mess nor did she become incapable of doing things. She was still independent by working her two jobs, being my Mum and now looking after her own Mother. 

I just helped out and put a brave face on when she would come home in an absolute mess. I never showed her my tears or my worry; I turned to my very supportive friends who let me vent or cry if I had to. There isn’t a day where I’m not thankful for their support and love during that time. 

But there wasn’t one moment where I wished I had Loki to talk to. Like I’ve said heaps in this section, I had accepted Loki was gone. But it didn’t mean I forgot about him nor didn’t miss him practically every day. 

Without Loki, I was back to realizing I was an only child with no company except my single parent. I didn’t have someone who was willingly to give all there time to entertain or talk to me like Loki seemed to do. Granted I realized this way before I knew of Grandma’s illness, but it seemed to be more apparent during this time. 

Especially when my Grandmother started to live with us. Near the end of Grandma’s life on Earth Mum and I wished her to spend more time with us just as much as she did. She placed herself in our living room bringing with her fold-out coach I used to sleep on with sleepovers. That’s where she stayed and was waiting on hand and foot by my Mother and her nurse Kylie. 

Kylie and I got along, this was mainly due to that fact both of us shared the common trait of our, “special friend.” As a child her imaginary friend was a lion she called Mr Hugenston. He apparently smelled of hay, only liked eating Eggplants and had a very squeaky voice that bellowed around the room when he talked. She seemed to believe Loki and Mr Hugenston would have been great friends, but to be perfectly honest all I could think was Loki wanting to skin the beast because of his irritating voice. 

But besides from that she had a great sense of humour, was kind and patient and loved her job with all the mess involved. Though there were times where she was stern and did get stressed just like the rest of us. 

For example, there were times where my Grandma didn’t want to take particular drugs ( I forget the names) because they made her head woozy. She would tell Mum to take the drugs away along with me making us feel awkward because we didn’t wish to see her upset but we knew she had to take them. Personally I didn’t want to force her because of my own personal stigma of being on the wrong drugs, I thought naively that these drugs could be doing the same to her. 

But thankfully Kylie reminded my Grandma why she had to take the drugs using us as emotional play. I can still hear her yelling at her, 

“Do you want to hurt your daughter and your granddaughter by seeing you in more pain?! Do you?!”

After that instant Grandmother took her medication. But as the week went on my Grandmother’s condition just got worse and worse. She got weaker as time went and began to refuse food and water and even started to wet the bed. If she got up (which was rare that that stage) she would sway like she was drunk and usually end up breaking a bone. 

Around this time was when Kylie started not to be so stern and allowed for my Grandma to refuse the pills. But Grandma still held on. There were some points where I seriously thought she was dead, but she would always turn her head and smile very weakly at me.

When I saw this I wished desperately Loki was near to hold my hand. But he wasn’t so I went to my Mum and friends, something that felt like a desperate substitute. Because while I didn’t want my Grandma to die, I didn’t want her to be pain anymore. I didn’t want her to hold on any longer. 

It wasn’t until one day when my Mum, while holding her hand told my Grandma it was ok to let go was when she died. I guess she needed that reassurance that Mum and I were going to be ok without her. 

The date my Grandma died was the 28th of July 1998. 

Her funeral, that was held four days later, was small and only filled with close friends and family. A couple of people stood up talked about her but unfortunately majority of the focus was her going back to my Granddad military service instead of her life accompanies. Mum made sure with the celebrant that nowhere in the service was the phrase, “passed away.” This was mainly due to that fact that my Grandma (along with my Mother) didn’t believe in heaven or life after death. 

I struggled with that idea a lot on that day. Because of Loki, I had most of his beliefs, one of them about the afterlife. On the day of my Grandmother’s funeral I believed that she had gone to Valhalla and was there with the other warriors. While granted my Grandmother wasn’t equipped or skilled with weapons, but she had in a sense fought her own personal war with cancer. And for her to be there among other past Aesirs and warriors of their own mind was comforting for me. 

So after my Grandma was lowered into the ground next to my Grandfather and the service was over, I detached myself from the wake and the legal proceedings to a nearby river with an old newspaper and a box of matches I had stolen. 

In my solitude I had cried openly as fashioned the newspaper into a small boat. After the boat was made I decorated the inside with light flowers that I found inside the funeral parlour. Once I had finished, I wiped my cheeks clean and with a clear voice spoke the poem Loki had spoken to himself at both my Uncle and my Grandfather’s funeral. 

When I had finished, feeling a strange sense of peace I slipped my boat into the water and watched it float down the flowing stream. As it did I flicked a match and threw the lit match into my boat. It caught alight and burned all the way down the river turning from white to black crumbling into the river, the remains disappearing from my sight.

I had never done something like that before, even with Loki. Loki and I after funerals usually would find ways of amusing ourselves by causing mischief with the staff or guests I didn’t know. I guess that was a way Loki helped to distract me from my grief. But that escape was gone. 

Over the next four years, I started getting the grasp of what a life without Loki or my Grandmother was like. And to be honest, it really wasn’t that much different aside from no longer being greeted after school or hanging out with Loki or seeing my Grandmother every second weekend. I started to hang out with my friends more often and even made new ones. 

Friends like Mike or “Mickey” who went on to being Jenny’s long term boyfriend later in life. Or Christen whose mind was so focused on having fun or her daydreams she would just nearly fail each one of her subjects. 

I went from Primary School onto Junior High and starting having a “normal” teenage experience with making new friends and exploring my own interests. My drawing grew more defined as well as my writing skills scoring the usual high marks with everything I submitted. 

Mum started dating again but never really had any relationships that she would regard as serious.  
The one guy I liked the most was named Troy, he was skinny but toned man with a toosle of black hair and glasses. He liked to bring over movies for all of us to watch and took Mum to baseball games. He was a ball of fun who just wanted to spoil Mum rotten, one of his downfalls unfortunately. My Mum wasn’t the only woman he liked spoiling, there was more than one, all of them not knowing one another. 

Besides all of her relationships, she had started up her own business, a little café called, “Sarah’s delights.” And while it wasn’t extremely popular, was stable enough for Mum not to work two jobs.   
It seemed like everything was going really well. 

But that was all about to change eight months after my fourteenth birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki’ turning into the Beast from “The Beauty and The Beast” for his love of roses…Oh well… 
> 
> This chapter wasn't my favorite to write. Mainly due to the fact the Grandmother character has been mostly modelled on my own Grandma. She hasn’t died nor does she have cancer, but the cancer I gave Louisa’s Grandmother is the same her (My Grandma’s) brother.
> 
> It’s one of the reasons why at some moments I’m waffling throughout this chapter (or section for Louisa). I don’t want to write or even imagine my Grandma’s death or re-imagining my Great Uncle’s struggle with cancer. I actually broke down in tears after writing this. 
> 
> So, if Grandma you’re reading this (which is unlikely), I’m sorry. I don’t want you to die anytime soon. 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Scratchet xox


	15. Chapter 15

I was at Billie’s place on the 12th of September 2002 when I found out about my Mother’s accident. I had been spending that night over at Billie’s watching movies with her and Jenny. That night we were supposed to be finishing off our homework we had been given before summer break had started. But like most teenagers, we had grown distracted and were by that point watching movies. We had been laughing at _"The Mask”_ when we heard a soft knock at Billie’s door. 

“Come in!” We yelled together giggling expecting to see Billie’s Mum Linda grinning broadly at us with food or saying goodnight. 

Although when the door opened we were greeted with two police officers, one male and the other female. The strong faced officers held glim expressions at the three of us, their police caps off in their hands showing their blonde haired heads. Behind them I could see Linda looking out of the window to Billie’s backyard, her shoulders shaking violently, her sobs louder than Jim Carrey singing and dancing with the Police officers on screen. 

“What’s going on?” Billie asked, her voice breaking at the end as she tried to look around the officers to her mother.

The female officer spoke first after clearing her throat,

“Hello girls, I’m Constable Peterson and this is my partner Constable Wayne.” She motioned to her partner who nodded once at us all with a small smirk. All three of us said hello, confusion heavy in our voices. 

“We were wondering if we could have a word with Louisa for a moment.” 

My heart jumped violently in my chest, 

“Me?” I asked confused.

At that moment I went back over my activities over the month to see if I had over stepped the law. I was a good teenager and never really that rebellious so I didn’t understand or know why they would want to talk to me.

The police officer pressed her full lips together,

“Could we discuss this outside your friend’s room, maybe in the sitting room that’s more accommodating for all of us to sit down?”

I nodded feeling extremely nervous as I got up, Jenny walking with me, Billie racing over to her mother. We let the officers walk up ahead, Jenny glancing at me as we walked down Billie’s hallway to her sitting room, 

“What do you think’s going on?” Jenny asked her voice panicky shaking a little.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” I said swallowing tightly feeling my body shake and buzz with nerves. My stomach snuck at the image of my Mum’s cross face,

“But if I have, I just hope they haven’t told Mum.” 

At that moment I heard Billie cry out in agony making my heart sink. Her sobbing of the word, “no” repetitively, Linda’s cries now softer confronting her daughter. 

I turned around with Jenny to look at my friend grasping her Mother tightly, both of them trembling violently with tears.

I swallowed hard wondering again with racing thoughts what I had done wrong. Maybe they knew about Dad’s death now, I had thought panicking; maybe they know Loki killed him. Maybe they know I was connected to Loki and I’ll get heard as a partner to the crime.

I was called in by the officers, my heart racing my eyes now scanning all the exits. All I wanted to do was run away - escape because I knew I was going to get blamed fully for Loki’s crimes. At that moment I thought Linda and Billie’s cries meant they knew I was going to jail, I was going to prison. I thought they were crying because they were mourning the girl they thought I was and were now scared of me. 

And that’s why I started crying along with tears of fright. I didn’t want to go jail, it wasn’t my fault; I didn’t do it. 

“I didn’t do it.” I told them in tears panicking, “I didn’t kill my Dad! I didn’t!” 

Constable Wayne had swallowed tightly with his eyes beginning to beam with tears,

“Louisa could you please sit down.” He told me, his voice breaking at the end which he tried to cover up with a cough.

I had sat down shaking violently. He must not want to take my jail either, I remember thinking.

I was so wrong.

Jenny grabbed my hand tightly just as Billie came in with her Mother; all the eyes facing me were sad and looked sorry for me. Billie put her arm around my shoulders, I remember her arm weight pulling my hair down and not doing anything about it. 

The next words that were said to me by Constable Peterson still make my heart stop in its tracks making throat tight. 

“I’m sorry Louisa but your Mother was involved in a head on collision with a truck earlier this evening.”

“Is she ok?” I asked, my heart seemingly not beating in my chest. I was hoping, almost praying for them to say she was ok, she was in hospital waiting to see me with some broken bones. 

She swallowed her eyes sad, 

“The individual at the scene tried to revive her, but unfortunately her neck broke in the impact of the crash.”

I didn’t believe it when I first heard it nor did I believe it all the other times I was reminded that my Mother was died over those coming weeks. Fact of the matter is that I still don’t believe it. I still want to believe that my Mother’s alive somewhere trying to find me. 

But I know deep down, she’s gone. She’s never coming back. Never going to hold me and protect me, never going to put me to bed at night. She’s never going to see me get married or be my other hand to hold when I give birth. She’s never going to be a Grandmother to my children and spoil them rotten with gifts or her love.

She’s dead. 

The month after Mum died went a lot like the month after Loki left. The days were slow and long. I didn’t move really at all for that week, I just sat in the one place, whether it was on a bed or a sofa staring at one section of the wall in front of me.

Like with Loki, Billie and Linda tried taking me out of the house away from the grief but it just followed me. When we went to the zoo, I cried seeing the giraffes, my Mum’s favourite animal. But unlike before where I smiled to cover my grief, I let my friends see I was hurt as I was encouraged to cry when I needed to, regardless of whether I was in public or not. 

The nights were just as long as I couldn’t sleep through. When I did sleep people found me at the door of the house trying to get out. I was convinced my Mum was lost somewhere and the person they had found in my Mother’s car wasn’t her, it was someone else. I even thought this when I was taken to the coroners and was looking down at my Mother’s battered face having to confirm that was her lying there. I didn’t want to believe that that pale lifeless body was my Mother with the dark shadows under her eyelids. 

I stayed with Billie and Linda for a week till I was taken to a foster care. I didn’t bother to remember the woman’s name that looked after me; all I know is that she had kind brown eyes and arms I didn’t want to be held in. I just wanted Mum to hug me, not her. 

The funeral happened a week later that I had some input to since my Mother hadn’t made a funeral plan. All she wanted was to be cremated and her ashes to be sprinkled over the Grand Canyon. 

That last wish still hasn’t been granted. 

I had made sure Loki’s poem (which I called “Farwell Warrior” and had taken full credit for) was in the service along with a similar send-off I gave to my Grandmother at the end to my Mother.   
This time the boats were made from orange, blue and purple poster paper, all of which were my Mother’s favourite colours. Each of these boats had a small braided rope of sweet grass and a white sage stick they would light and place into the papered boat after they had smudged themselves. Then each guest would then place the stick into the boat lighting up the sweet grass and say some words to my Mother before letting it drift down the stream. Jenny had researched both of these herbs for school and had found them to be used a lot in native Indian tribe recitals. So in a sense I was bringing a bit from America’s past along with my own spiritual pasts. 

 

So many people who had known her as a teenager and as my Mother came, all of them staring at me with curious eyes when the celebrant mentioned me during the service. A handful came up to me to talk to me at the wake as I stood near my two best friends (who never left my side along with the foster parent) all telling me how brave and beautiful of a woman my Mother had been and how beautiful the service was. 

When this happened I just felt touched letting these people hug me. These encounters, while they were short, let me know more than anything my Mother was loved by others just as much as she was loved by me. 

I was even touched when Steven turned up. He had sat at the very back of the hall where my Mother’s funeral was being held and had been one of the last people to give their condolences to me. 

Granted at first I wasn’t happy to see him and nearly yelled violently at him to get out. But instead of acting out in hysterics, I gave the man a chance.

When he reached me his eyes were roar with tears, his nose red. 

“Hello Steven.” I greeted him with a forced gentle tone. 

“Louisa I’m sorry,” he said, his voice had creaked, 

“I’m so, so sorry for your lose. Your Mother was a beautiful and one- “He had breathed out heavy like he had been composing himself, 

“- amazing, amazing woman.” 

I swallowed tightly, “Thank you.” 

“And while you and I didn’t get along I just want you to know that you are one brave and intelligent girl and I was always admired by your strength and...Imagination. Even if both you and your friend didn’t like me.” 

“Thank you.”

“And I’m sorry for how I treated you, I realize now it was wrong. You don’t have to forgive me but…I’m sorry.” 

With gentle hands he gave my hand a pat and one last tight smile, the Officer not knowing as he left I held a small amount of respect for him. 

The woman who had tried to revive her also came. During the wake she kept to herself silently observing the chatter but after a while had the courage to come up to me to apologize. I still remember seeing her blue eyes filled with tears as she apologized over and over to me, her voice heavy with remorse.

While at first I was angry to see her, angry she didn’t try harder to help my Mum, I then realized this woman must have had tried her hardest. I gave this woman a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek (which at the time was very out of character for me) thanking her for trying to rescue my Mum. She left soon after giving me a bunch of flowers I added to the collection. 

Although, the one person I wanted at the funeral never turned up. I never saw his green eyes weeping for me or felt his strong arms I desperately wanted to hide in. 

The only sign I did see of Loki mourning for me was after the funeral. When I went back to my foster home I found my rose, instead of being the crisp orange to signify autumn, it was a deep midnight blue and had welted off its autumn petals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: 
> 
> I haven’t explained it in here but the rose never welts, so yeah…there’s some imagery for you. 
> 
> Tell me what cha think! 
> 
> _Scratchet xox_


	16. The Other Grandmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Animal Cruelty featured in this chapter

After the funeral I was taken in to my Mother’s lawyer. After the usual greetings and the, “I’m sorry for your lose” phrase I had heard continuous of times that day, I was told that my Mother had left every one of her belongings to me. 

The house I had lived in my whole life had been sold along with all the furniture with all the profits going towards me. This was the same with, “Sarah’s delights” which was sold to a local couple whose names I don’t care for. Although I wasn’t allowed to touch any of the money as her condition in her last Will and Testament was that all of it had to be put towards my college fund.

The only things I was allowed to keep were was her jewellery, her music and limited soft toy collection. The photographs of my childhood and her’s I also kept. 

Her other condition was that I had to live with my legal guardian till I was eighteen. On my Mother’s last Will and Testament though my legal guardian was outlined as my Grandmother, so they had to found another living relative I could live with. My Mum had specified she didn’t want me living in an orphanage or through the foster care chain if she was to pass away. 

It took about three long months to find a relative that would take me in. Through those three months I felt sick all hours of the day. Because I knew that my Mother’s side of the family were all gone. I knew I was practically alone in this world. I had been told over and over again after my Mother had died that I wasn’t alone. I still had a group of supportive friends like Billie and Jenny, which I value to this very day, but it wasn’t the same as having a Mother or a true family of my own. 

So when they did find someone just near the start of the forth month I was relieved along with being a little confused. 

I met her the day after they had told me they had found her. She was my Father’s Mother, Janet Miller and she seemed like a lovely lady. The first time I met her I was brought into a tight embrace with a promise that she would care for me as if I was her own. She held my hand and helped me back up my things into boxes with a kind smile that always seemed to be larger when there were people around us. 

But as soon as I left my foster family, as soon as I pulled out of that driveway, she was cold and told me she didn’t want to hear my voice or ever be in her presence. I was told to stay in my room when I was in her home and to only come out when she was asleep, outside or watching television. 

I was told I had to buy my own food and clean my own clothes, I wasn’t allowed to eat her food or was I able to use her washing machine. 

I was told I needed to find some sort of job as she would not support a “brat” like me.   
And that was my life from that day forward, my life with what I grew to refer as The Other Grandmother or The Other for short. 

All my good grades didn’t mean anything to that woman and neither did my rebelling. I wasn’t loved by her at all. Whenever she looked at me with those aqua eyes all I saw was jealously and hatred. 

This look at the beginning confused me rather than hurt me. This was mainly due to the fact that when she would take out me to church (the only thing the two of us did and was what I grew to realize was her grand performance) she would smile at me, talk of me to her fellow Christians like I was the best that had ever happened to her. 

“She’s a gift to me.” She would say. 

No one would notice the looks she would give me after she said this or how her eyes seemed to darken in hatred. 

“Satan’s curse.” Was what I heard in her stare and when she was talking to her out of wedlock affairs. That’s what she really thought of me. 

And I took comfort in that title. To me it reminded me I was still seen. I wasn’t that invisible in the prison I considered myself in. Like a prisoner I used to celebrate every passing year till I was eighteen, till I was out of that hell. 

I became oddly numb to the pain of her neglect. Affection was a distant thing in the past I used to relish myself in, things I used to escape to. 

It was one of the reasons I really started to read more.

Granted I wasn’t allowed to mainly due to the fact her books were her’s, but every night after she fell asleep I would pinch a book out and quietly read it for two hours before going back to my mattress on the floor. Reading for me was like a plane ticket out of my cold empty room to a place where there was adventure I wanted to face. My favourites at the beginning were the Narnia and the Lord of the Ring books mainly because they were such different places from where I was. 

I never got into Harry Potter because to me his world wasn’t really that different from my own. He was ignored while he lived with the Dursley’s and treated like shit and his only escape, like me, was school where people loved him. But unlike Harry I kept my sadness to myself, I knew no one could help me, I had to help myself. 

Although at the very beginning I did turn to people for help out of the hell I lived in. At first I talked to the child welfare people but The Other of course orchestrated it all. I was deemed just a typical teenager complaining about everything. I then turned to her church, again another mistake on my part as I got the same result as the first time. I then tired Billie’s Mother. She did believe me and was nice enough to send Billie with extra lunch on days I let her know I was struggling.

But I wanted to get out, not helped. 

My Mother’s Will was stuck in place along with the promise of going to college in the future. At the beginning though, I didn’t care for college, I just wanted out. I actually resented my Mother and her stupid Will, it was her stupid rule that kept me here. 

Some days I considered contesting the Will like Jenny had suggested but I didn’t want to try. I knew the result. The Other was too good of an actress and would screw the system over just as her son had. 

And then there was the other question of where I would go. Billie’s family was stuggling, Jenny had no room in her small house, Mike had too many people in household and Christine’s family life was as shit as mine when I was five.   
I was stuck. 

I think it was one of the reasons why I looked out for Loki again. While I did have some support from my friends group at high school, I didn’t feel it was enough. I wanted my Prince back so desperately. It started off with me praying desperately every night for Loki to come get me before I went to sleep. I would do this, not by grasping my hands together glazing up the roof.   
I would pray to the rose Loki gave to me.

The rose still bloomed and changed its petals to the changing of the seasons. The rose didn’t need any water or light to survive as I grew to realize as it spent its days with my other possessions in the cardboard boxes I used as storage. The pricks still didn’t harm me when I touched them. I believed, because of this reason, he still cared for me where he was and, if I talked to it enough, he would come and save me. 

I believed he would take me away from her to Asgard, just as he had said all those years ago when my Father and Mother were yelling. Somewhere where I believed I would be safe and people wouldn’t hate me for just existing. 

I did this so much that I began praying to him in my dreams. 

The dream setting would always be in a pitch black empty room with The Other’s vile and croaky voice echoing off the walls. I would always be spreading my arms in front of myself trying to outrun the noise and found an exit. I would yell out to Loki to let me out, to save me from her. At first I got no answer but after a while he started replying although the phrase never changed. 

“I can’t.” 

At first it would be spoken with such plainness but as I got more frantic with my pleas, they got nastier. He still said the same phrase but it came out in snarls of angrier then to shouts that would always wake me up shaking wanting to cry. 

But no tears would come. 

I became obsessed with wanting to get out that I would research Norse Mythology and Viking history. I found out that the way to get the God’s attention was to sacrifice an animal. The Vikings mainly used livestock, but since I didn’t have any livestock, I did what I thought was the next best thing.

I got so desperate that I killed The Other’s next door neighbor's cat by throwing stones at it.   
I’m not proud of it; I cringe every time I think about my actions. When I was doing it I flinched the whole time not wanting to look, not wanting to hear the impact sounds as I chased after it. The cat’s cries faded after a while and when I was finished I set it on fire shouting to the Asgardian Gods for my God of Mischief to come back and take me somewhere safe. 

And when I got no reply I just felt extremely hollow kicking the remains into her rose bush. When The Other’s next door neighbor came home I lied telling her some stranger had killed her cat by burning it alive. I felt hollower when I saw the elderly woman fall into a mess in front of me and how much I wanted to cry with her…

… But for all the wrong reasons. 

My Loki dreams dried up after that and like that, I gave up. I decided then that I needed to stop thinking people were going to come and save me. I needed to keep my head held high and just get on with life. 

No one in my friends group was missing meals, none of my friends knew what it was like to be ignored and treated like anything, They may knew how it felt to be treated like nothing which was always something someone could explore in, but not how I felt. I don’t even think there’s a word that I could describe how I felt. 

I grew, like with my tears, to bottle up my feelings and cover them up. I would go at the world with a smile or with a sarcastic wit never letting myself ever look back at my past or fully at what I had to deal with. 

It was the reason why I cut all my hair off. My long black hair was attached to memories where my departed love ones stroking it or telling me how beautiful it was. I wanted to leave it all behind and by cutting so it was just black shaven pricks on my head I felt at the time was a way of starting a fresh. 

I’m not anyone’s Princess, I’m just Louisa Miller and that’s what I want.

I thought I had everyone fouled and I was going to continue being independent in my ignored silence but clearly it wasn’t meant to happen. In my final years of senior high my English teacher decided to assign me a counselor through the school. This counselor wasn’t like the ones I dealt with when I was nine who wanted me to draw my feelings out. Nor was this counselor like the impatient one I dealt with when I was five. 

She didn’t mind sitting in silence or being yelled at and she saw straight through what she considered my ‘shield’. I gave in one day and spilled things up like the abuse my Dad put me through, thinking and knowing that would give the psychologist her dose of, “poor hurt Louisa.”   
I didn’t want to talk about Loki, but because I half-hearty gave her permission one day to look into my files, she found out about my Prince. I didn’t like talking about him as it made me feel extremely hollow so when I did talk of him it was just short impatient answers.

When it came to the sixth session I actually walked out because of how much attention she wanted to have on him.She was so focused on looking at my imaginary friend and analyzing him, I felt she wasn’t looking at me how I was. 

 

As I stated before, I didn’t want to look back at him. He just made me feel sick and sad; I didn’t want to see that part of my life again. I felt and still feel that my childhood with Loki was confusing and had felt like a roller coaster. 

There were points where I felt everything was fine and our friendship was prefect. He was supportive and loving; he let me cry and would always appear to have my needs first.   
But other times I didn’t like him at all. He never stopped my Father’s fists; he never appeared to others to prove I wasn’t delusional. He’s presence caused me to put on schizophrenic pills and he disappeared without even saying goodbye.

I never went back to that counselor for those reasons. I was too scared and over the past or present to look at it. 

I just wanted to focus on what was in front of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> SO SO Sorry for the long wait! But this chapter REALLY needed two re-writes before I believed it was ready. 
> 
> I hated writing this chapter so much, mainly due to the animal cruelty thing.
> 
> I’m a massive cat person and I like to believe Louisa is too along with being an all-round animal lover. So to kill a cat was just as painful and dark for her as it would be for me.
> 
> I’m sorry if I’ve offended or angered anyone by making Louisa do such an act but it was there to show how desperate she was to have her ‘Prince’ back.
> 
> After this chapter such cruelty will not be in this story. 
> 
> If you have any criticism, please let me know. 
> 
> The next chapter will be, I hope, a lot less depressing then the past four chapters. It might also take a while to be uploaded as I haven’t written it yet :/
> 
> Scratchet xo  
> 


	17. The Good Years

As soon as I turned eighteen I moved out of The Other’s home and into a small run down flat near Columbia University, the university I along with Jenny and Mike were accepted in while Billie went to Genesee Community College to study to be a vet. 

I enrolled into the Graduate School of Journalism of Columbia University into the Master of Science Degree, an area when I was in both junior and senior high I excelled at. I became involved in the school newspaper at first so I could stay a few extra hours away from The Other and to spend some extra time with Billie and Henry, a guy both she and I fancied. But after a while Billie grew bored of the newspaper and Henry, I however, while I also grew tired of Henry, I did not get bored of the idea of investigative writing. 

I loved writing in the paper about school activities. Yes granted the school was small and there wasn’t much to write on in the way of activities but I still enjoyed writing about big topics to the student body.

My work ranged from the toxic materials the janitor was using to clean the halls to the rats that were prevalent in the cafeteria, with both articles winning me awards I was proud of along with my supportive friends.

I guess I liked the idea of looking at things around me and nutting them out. I could give the world my opinion on what the world looked like to me along with giving it facts I thought it deserved to know. The other reason was that writing could also be my thing and not have to worry of The Other getting jealous and taking my hobby away like she did with drawing. 

By the time I was in my senior year I wanted to continue in this field, I wanted to be a journalist more than anything else in the world. 

And when I got to CUand into the course I enjoyed every minute of it. I was at every lecture and was usually the first one to put in my assignments. Like with most of my schooling career I was one of the many at the top of the grade.

But I still had fun like any other college student going to parties and having wild nights on the campus. I was known as, “the hot nerd” among strangers and my fellow classmates who was the campaign at beer bong and had a knack for hooking up with the law students, something that used to really piss off Mike (who was a law student) in a big brother way. 

I was known for my freshman year for being the, ‘easy lay’ something I’m still not proud of but a huge part of me didn’t and still doesn’t really care. I didn’t really care what people thought nor did I really stop to really hear what they were thinking. I was too busy moving forward with my head held high not bothering really to look behind me. 

I was enjoying learning everything about journalism from about the articles are written and the learning about the ethics legislation on journalism. I even enjoyed essay writing which I even think was a bit strange because while everyone was stressed I was calm and collected with my head in a book, my hand scribbling on the paper next to me and telling a law student that I was busy that night studying for finals and to leave me alone. 

This might have been one of the reasons I never really made any new friends at CU because I kept to myself so much. I kept to Jenny and Mike and saw Billie on the weekends or in my breaks. I like to think that Jenny, Mike and Billie were the only thing I really didn’t want to move forward and away from. Jenny and Billie were there when Loki was around sure but they were supportive and there for me after he left. And I still wanted that support to stay with me no matter what. I didn’t want to have to deal with the idea of new friends. 

But that seemed to change in my junior year when I met Cameron Harding.

Cameron had blonde tousled hair that always looked like he had been stuck in a wind tunnel, his dark blue eyes while bold were always shy. Which many, including me really didn’t understand as it really didn’t match the stereotype that went along with his build. He was strong and rather built being part of the CU’s football team and was always surrounded by other athletes and rather attractive women. 

Like everyone else I thought he was pretty attractive and loved watching the home games so I could look at him in his element. Because Cameron off the track was quiet and never really said anything unless he was talking to his small group of friends. But when he was on the field he was loud and a crowd pleaser (when he wasn’t being tackled). Everyone’s eyes were on Cameron and he was perfectly ok with it until he walked off the field and was back to being stuck in his cell. 

Cameron was like a puzzle no one could never really place together. And to be perfectly honest while that annoyed everyone else, it really didn’t bother me all that much. I think it’s because I was like this in college, my head was either in a book or being extremely loud and parting like my life depended on it. People seemed to believe then and even now that these two traits shouldn’t really intertwine with one another. 

I was always a watcher of Cameron, never really approaching him. I found myself staring at every angle and shape of his body and loving the sound of his deep rumbling voice and his bark of laughter that seemed to make my heart soar. And it made me glad to know that Cameron was always a watcher of me. There would be times when would catch the other in the act making both of us duck our heads. This used to annoy my friends because my shyness didn’t really make any sense. 

“With any other guy you’re a flirtatious and a sexual beast but with Mr-shy-footballer you’re a blushing moron.” Jenny said once over a coffee date with Billie who was partly paying attention as she studied. 

“Well maybe Louisa wants to get to know him before she does the nasty with him. Either that or she’s turned over a new leaf and is deciding that it’s time she trusted herself in a relationship.” Billie said looking up to smile softly at me before frowning at Jenny,

“Besides you can’t talk because you’re finally decided to give Mickey a chance after flirting with him on and off giving him mixed messages. You’re both horrible at relationships; take a snippet out of my book.” 

“Yeah cause seeing your substitute professor Troy McLain, which is against you’re college’s rulebook and could have him fired is SOO much better than having a crush on a shy football player and dating a close friend.” Jenny said cutting off my laughter and wiping Billie’s cheeky smile. 

“As a matter of fact he’s not really a professor, he’s more a scientist and could be working alongside Sta–“ 

“Whatever excuse you wana give Billie it’s a fact you’re dating your professor.” 

Both of them frowned at each other before Billie looked at me with her warm smile, 

“Work at your own pace Louisa whether it’s your fast pace or slow one. Don’t let bossy pants tell you otherwise.” She told me gesturing at Jenny with a head nudge. 

And that’s what I was going to do until one of my Professors had assigned me with Cameron to be his tutor moving the process forward. Because of his football commitments, Cameron hadn’t really found the balance of work and play and was falling behind not understanding fully the lecturers. 

Of course when I finally met him he was a shy nervous wreck blushing deeply not really sure how to answer my questions unless I edged him on. Nevertheless as time went on we were able to get past his shyness and I was able to talk the Cameron Harding only his family, friends and fellow athletes saw. 

I found out Cameron was actually a guy from the country and was from a small family with just him, his baby sister Anne and his Dad Alan running their little farm. He had other family who lived Florida who he no longer visited; something to this day is still a mystery to me as to why. He had been home schooled till senior high which he found a completely different experience.

“Personally I preferred talking to a cow or a horse rather than a person back in high school.” He told me rather honestly one night as we studied ducking his head, 

“That was until I started getting into the football and even then it’s just shouting numbers or ‘over here’ not really having that connection that people have when they’re talking to one another. That’s why it’s so easy to get involved with the crowd because there’s still this wall that divides you against them.”

“Is that why you like writing? Because of the wall?” I asked completely entranced by his words, the text book forgotten. 

“Kind of. I like the idea of being a journalist because I get to show the world what I think of it without worrying about people really judging me. Because to me, there’s still that wall, but that wall can be broken and I can actively tell that person what I think without worrying about being shy.” 

After that I never understood why people would say Cameron was stupid because to me he was the most smart and insightful man I had ever met. 

The tutoring lessons every week then started developing into dates where Cameron and I would explore New York together. We would either take the tourist tours or he would let me show him my favourite places in the city. 

I still remember ducking around corners with him at the National Museum just before it closed purposely pissing off the security guard. 

I still remember sitting on the little hill my Mum and I used to sit on in Central Park near the lake, my chocolate ice cream forgotten next to me when he kissed me for the first time, his full lips tasting of his strawberry milkshake.

These dates then became passionate nights where I couldn’t keep my hands off him and neither could he. From that point on, I was glued to him as he was to me through our university days with one another. Every moment I was with him I felt so happy my heart would burst and every moment away from him dragged on and on. I wanted to know everything about him, get to know all his hobbies and maybe even learn to love them too. 

I found myself enjoying football games more and his taste in music which had more old music than new. I learnt about the farming life when I finally met his family out on their farm – something that became like regular monthly visits. 

His sister Anne and Alan became the father and sister I had only dreamt about. I would spoil Anne rotten with gifts from New York while she would educate me on things thirteen year olds liked (which I didn’t like it) and her vegie patch. While Alan would have lengthy debates with me ranging from Politics to the American Criminal Justice System as well as educating me on Cameron’s embarrassing infant years chasing ‘mows’ and riding ‘norse-ies’ with his late mother who died of cancer five years before. 

But Cameron and I were still able to spend some time alone in the paddocks with a picnic or in what Alan called our shack. There no assignment deadlines or job pressures could find us. It was peaceful and a place I could honestly stay forever.   
I was hopelessly in love with him. 

And it felt like he didn’t judge me or even look at my differently when I did eventually tell him about Loki. 

It had come up originally one day when we were out once with Jenny, Billie and Mike. We were talking about all the crazy shit we did as children and Billie had mentioned Loki to Cameron in a drunken state.

“As in Loki the God of Mischief? That guy?” Cameron had asked his beautiful smile on his face that I didn’t return. 

“Yes. Him.” 

“Why him?”

“She doesn’t know, apparently he just CAME to her after she kissed a frog.” Jenny giggled.

“And you didn’t get sick?” Cameron asked laughing.

“Can we drop the subject please?” I snapped glaring at them all. 

After that Cameron left it alone, he didn’t bring Loki up once until I told him about the God of Mischief along with my childhood, something I decided to keep separate from him.

He didn’t laugh; he was extremely supportive and let me unload a lot I had kept inside. He was the first person I told about the cat instant, something I told as I cried into his shoulder. 

“Hey, when you’re in situations like you were in, we usually turn to the most ridiculous ones. You felt safe with him and that’s ok.” 

He kissed me softly taking a deep breathe in, 

“But he’s never coming back right?” He had asked looking deep within my eyes. 

I nodded my head trying my best to ignore the hollow-ness and heart break I was feeling deep inside me, 

“Yeah, Loki’s gone.” 

I finished my degree a year later at the top of my class and an internship with The Daily Bugle while Cameron went to The New York Times. We were shoved as graduates into the era where Stark Institutes went from being a weapon company to disturbing clean energy. An era where Tony Stark, the billionaire playboy without a care in his perfect world was now known as being the new ‘superhero’ known as “Iron Man”. Times were changing and I wished secretly that mine would continue to change as well. 

Change where I didn’t have to worry about loss and grief following me, only happiness. That the good years would continue and I could spend my life being a journalist hopefully for The Daily Bugle with Cameron on my side. Start a new life with him never once looking back on where we came from.

Change did happen though, but not in the forward direction I wanted it to go.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Louisa can have some good years without death or shitty human beings following her!
> 
> Again, Sorry for the wait. This chapter again like most of my chapters was revised, re written, added to etc. till I deemed as perfect to read.
> 
> The most revising was with Louisa’s Boyfriend character Cameron Harding. I wanted to make sure that he was a character you guys could fall in love with as much as Louisa did along with keeping him complex. I did write a short story with him and an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. interviewing him. This explains a lot further then I have in this chapter. With this said I MIGHT put it up for you guys to read. 
> 
> I would also like to note that after doing my research on CU I found out the course Louisa was enrolled goes for two years, not four. So again like with the pills I gave her in chapter 8/9, I’m making it so it’s four years instead of two. I know it’s taking the lazy way out but I’m sorry. 
> 
> If any of you are doing this course I’m sorry if I’ve offended you and I apologize to you and the university. I did look at Louisa doing the Master of Arts degree there but she needed at least three or more years’ experience – which she doesn’t have in the story (she has two from High School). 
> 
> The next two chapters will be up sooner than this one cause I actually wrote these two chapters WAAY back when I was writing the earlier chapters. 
> 
> So see ya then!!
> 
> Scratchet xo


	18. The Destroyer Article

It all started going backwards in, “The Big Week.”

That week I had just started my internship at The Daily Bugle after Tony Stark was attacked by a man with electric whips and the monster that was being named “The Hulk” had destroyed Rio de Janeiro that weekend. Every other intern who was fighting for their place at the Bugle was writing argumentative pieces on whether Tony Stark was a home grown terrorist or was making theories on what The Hulk actually was and how it came to be. I on the other hand was writing on the only thing I considered myself to be an expert on, The Norse God mythology.

When I was in my last year of high school my highest mark was my essay for history. In it I discussed the summaries between Christianity and the Viking mythology. Granted it caused me some pain but I forced myself to look at the mythology besides my personal ‘connection’ with one God in particular.

So thinking I could go for two by getting my work published in the newspaper I started drafting. And like any good writer, I feel into the frustrating trap of writer’s block. At first all I had were titles (that kinda ran like essay topics) but that was it.

_Does the mythology have any relevance to recent times?_

_Norse mythology and language impacts, is there any?_

_Was Loki unacknowledged in the Norse God Mythology?_

The last one made me shiver from head to foot simply because for the past five years I hadn’t really thought about him at all. I had been sitting at my desk in my apartment at that moment when I had written another title,

_Is Loki Truly Evil?_

Scared and annoyed I abounded the drafting and went to bed thinking I was getting away from it. Unfortunately my sub-conscious had other plans.

In my dreams I found myself in a high golden room filled with beautiful honey coloured robbed individuals talking rather quickly and excitedly. At first I just thought it was my subconscious being odd but then my nose picked up a familiar smell. The room’s scent had a strong metallic smell to it mixing with strong smooth but bitter spices; the smell of Asgard.

The dreams air was electric with excitement and anticipation as I walked around the room and the crowd looking at the Aesirs, not recognizing any of them from Loki’s descriptions. The captivating atmosphere of the room had made my dream-self feel second hand excitement. I could feel myself smiling fully, my gait more a skip than a walk.

Who was this for? I had wondered only for a short moment as the surrounding excited chatter around the room had practically answered my silent question.

All the nerves and this excitement was for Thor, the God of Thunder. And he was about to be crowned King of Asgard.

At that moment the sound of the grand doors opened, the room’s conversations and excitement cutting off at the sight of Odin AllFather. He looked exactly as Loki had described him. Although now his beard was shining silver rather than greying brown, his built a little less grand.

He was tall and proud in his gait. His presence alone seemed to demand the utmost respect that reflected in his blue eye as he looked over his subjects with affection and dominance. His two birds, Huginn and Muninn, sat on his red robbed shoulders with their black heads held high.

As he passed the Aesirs they started to drop to their knees to knell at the nervous looking All Father. A little memory of Loki and I playing Asgard went across my dreams conscious, where Loki was telling me, his queen, to kneel.

What I considered a conflicting and confusing memory was interrupted by Odin telling everyone to rise. When the crowd had raised Odin then, with his harsh but gentle tone, announced the rest of the royal family, the crowd clapping politely.

Everyone’s head had turned then to the doors, my heart stopping at the sight of my Prince holding hands with his Mother.

He was in the battle armour I had seen in him be in threatening times, the golden horns catching the light around him. To me he seemed taller, his face more narrow although he still had his intense green eyes. He looked proud with the small nervous smile on his face illumining the room.

I don’t know what came over me but suddenly I found myself rushing towards the front of the crowd weaving through the Gods to get him to see me. I wanted him to see me, to know I was here. It was like the child in me had taken control because I knew the adult part of me had no interest in the God of Mischief.

“LOKI!” I yelled expecting and wanting him to turn and face me. But he didn’t.

“LOKI!” I yelled again thinking he didn’t hear me as he got closer. Still he didn’t look my way once.

“LOKI IT’S ME! LOUISA! LOOK AT ME PLEASE!” I sobbed outstretching my hand to grab him. But my hand fell through his armoured shoulder like I was a ghost. He just kept moving walking up to his place on the foot of the stairs kneeling on one knee to his Father, Frigga doing the same. Odin gave Loki a stern and distance nod while he gave an affectionate smile shown to his Queen. They both then stood up, Loki’s stance more rigid than the pair.

When Loki turned around he looked at me, my heart beating fast against my chest. His eyes were even more intense than before looking straight through me, his lips set in a concreted line. It was like he was searching through me, looking for something

“Loki please…” I whispered looking straight into his eyes. He sighed heavy looking over my head, the sound of heavy doors opening up. The loud and enthusiastic applauds drowning out my yell of cries, Loki glaring with jealously and a small mixer of hatred.

I woke up then with a start sitting in my bed, my heart thundering in my body. The dream played over my conscious for the rest of the night not allowing me rest. Every time I closed my eyes he was there looking through me with his intense green eyes, something not even Cameron could do.

I didn’t want to think of him again so I went to Cameron’s to distract me with his love from my nightmare. Of course I woke him up and he was annoyed but as soon as he saw my upset expression he was generally concerned for me. I was taken into his arms and he sat me down on his bed where he listened to my dream about Loki.

After I had finished he looked at me with concern,

“I thought you said he was gone?”

“He is gone. He’s not coming back in the way he did.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice had sounded almost childlike, like he was scared.

“I’m positive. I’ve moved on from my imaginary friend,” I told him, Loki’s concreted searching gaze doing laps around my consciousness. I swallowed tightly,

“I know he’s never coming back.” I couldn’t help feeling a pull in my gut, which only happened when I was outright lying. Like I was only saying this to make sure Cameron wasn’t hurting or worrying for me.

Though Cameron’s smile and passionate kiss made me ignore it all and I only focused on his touch and words wiping Loki – the past - away so I could sleep in an exhausted haze.

The next day went at it’s fast pace with me zipping around The Daily Bugle doing the usual jobs as I continued to brainstorm on a Viking related story. I wasn’t going to let the Loki dream stop me or hold me down. I was going to treat it like I did when I studied Vikings in high school, something in the past that has come forward just to haunt and distract me for a while.  

Though, no matter how much I brainstormed I was still stuck with Loki doing laps in my head.

_Destiny vs. purpose in Viking Mythology – Loki and Raganoff._

_Lies and mischief – do they go hand in hand?_

_Disguises – can they just be through a mask or are they deeper?_

I was again stuck at the end of that day with a massive headache and nothing to hand into Jameson. Even after I talked to Cameron on the phone, something that usually calmed me down, I still went to sleep again feeling a deep sense of angrier and stress hoping desperately Loki wouldn’t be there.

That night though Loki did come back. It was very similar to the dream I had the night before, except I was now standing in a darker golden room with walls covered in spiral patterns. Odin was clearly yelling at Thor, Thor yelling back although I couldn’t get the words, all I had was a feeling this was over something major.

I looked next to myself wanting to find an exit but instead I’m found myself looking at very tense and guilty Loki watching it all, like he was the reason for the disagreement.

I felt a jolt through my body like someone had made a large noise causing me to turn to see Odin looking like he was screaming his words now; Thor seemed to reply with just the same loudness making Loki and Odin flinch.

Loki stepped forward then to say something, maybe to vouch for his brother but was yelled at by Odin, I felt Loki being startled but that was it.

Odin then with heavy feet marched up to Thor and started ripping off parts of his son’s armour, the metal arm bands falling off like shreds. He then tore off his cape and Mjolnir from his hand opened the Bifröst only to let Thor fall into it. Loki with teary eyes gave his Father a distressed look marching out, my dream ending feeling Loki’s unstable feelings of grief but a sense of happiness that his brother had been banished. This happiness though quickly turned into a sense of envy.

That day I had pondered the dreams so much that the events of the Stark Expo destruction of the night before went straight over my head. Every other intern began writing and reporting on the destruction in the hopes to impress Jameson with more than a cup of coffee. One reporter tried to do an in-depth article about Ivan Vako, but this article along with others Jameson regarded as “generic” articles were scraped.

“Jameson doesn’t want anything from us that involves the big stories.” The ‘Ivan Vako reporter’ told me that week.

“Maybe because he’s already getting that from his journalists, you’ve just got to be quicker and maybe a bit more original that’s all.” I told him giving him a pat on the back, he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah I guess. How’s the Viking article coming on?”

“Getting there…”

I was still completely stressed and stuck for ideas.

“I still think it’s a long shot, Jameson probably won’t take it. Well that’s unless of course you get some sort of hard physical proof and make it current.”

And of course, I didn’t really have any proof nor could I make it relevant. The only thing I really had at that point was allegedly Odin’s blue box thing called the Tesseract was somewhere dumped in the ocean or in the possession of some government agency called S.H.I.E.L.D. But that again was just conspiracies, not actual proven facts I could find. To me, “The Rising Tide” wasn’t a source I could use, let alone trust as reliable.

I wasn’t about to give Jonah anotherIvan Vako article filled with conspiracies and vague opinions of where the box was. So I was left with nothing.

That was until I received a call from Jenny in New Mexico. She was there doing volunteer work at some school for extra experience for her bachelor but had skipped that morning because there had been some sort of satellite sighting. She had called me thinking I would want to report on it, not aware of the theme I was going with.

“Yeah some are calling it a satellite, but I think it looked more like a hammer actually.” Jenny told me.

“A hammer?” I asked pacing up and down the Bugle office.

“Yeah, but no one could get it out of the ground. Heaps of people tried but nothing could make it budge.”

_I tried lifting the hammer once, but since I wasn’t “worthy” I could not._

“Jenny I could kiss you! Thank you!” I hanged up my phone running into Joe’s office.

“Joe is anything coming in from New Mexico?”

Joe laughed, “Except the refugees, nothing. Why?”

“Nothing about a satellite?”

“A satellite?”

“Thank you!” I scoot back around the corner to my desk ringing Jenny again.

“Why did you -?”

“Tell me everything you can about the hammer you saw.”

“Why is it so important? I was only there for five minutes before the feds turned up.”

_Feds that’s a good sign_ , I had thought wanting to giggle hysterically.

“Just tell me, it’s a matter of publication life or death.”

Two hours later I was knocking rapidly on Jameson’s door with my article in my hand. The article was like a, “on the ground” record of the satellite sighting that resembled a hammer to the onlookers. This allowed me to argue about Mjolnir, the weapon of Thor, which I had a nagging doubt that he or someone else had dropped somewhere.

Betty scowled at me from her desk after the third round of frantic knocking,

“Louisa, Jameson’s going to lose it if you continue doing that. Why don’t you just give it to me and I can pass it on?”

“WHAT?!”

I grin widely at her as I had opened the door,

“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it.”

I watched her roll her eyes to my wink as I shut the door. I turned to Jameson sitting behind his desk with his arms crossed, a look that could kill aimed at me.

“Hi Mr Jameson, I just wanted to give you my article –“

“If you were going to give it in person, why didn’t you give it to the girl at the desk?”

“Because I would love for you to personally see it first.”

Jameson rolled his eyes putting out his hand. I handed it over for him to snatch away scanning the title. He glared at me for a moment before scanning the rest of the article with a glare set poker face. A tense time later he put the article away from his nose to hand it back still wearing his poker face,

“Get rid of that cheesy title and that copyrighted picture and get me an on sight photo and you’ve got yourself publication kid.”

Jameson smiled briefly at my big grin before going back to his frown making a brush hand movement to get out of his office. As I walked out he called me back,

“Keep giving me stories like that Miller and you’ve got a job here.”

“Really?”

“Get out.”

I laughed shutting the door behind me pulling out my phone.

“Jenny you just got me my first publication.”

_And thank you Thor for dropping your hammer in the middle of the New Mexico desert,_ I thought.

That night with the promise of my article getting published, I thought and wanted to sleep a Loki-less sleep with Cameron – who had stayed the night - resting next to me. He had received good news that day too from his internship. Over the week he had been helping considerably at The Times along with reporting on small events that were happening around New York, each one being published on their website and in the paper itself. It was only, what I thought, I matter of time when Cameron would get the job.

So when he told me The Times had hired him, while I wasn’t surprised I was still excited for him squealing with delight when he told me,

“Oh my god I’m so happy for you! When do you start? Y’know officially?”

His board smile was so bright it made my heart want to burst,

“Next week.”

He had gripped my hands in his grasp still with the brightest of smiles,

“And it could be a permanent thing Louisa and I want this,” he said kissing my cheek with a feather touch of his lips. His eyes soft when they glazed at me again,

“This, being you and I. I want this to be permanent.”

It was then when I watched Cameron get down on one knee and my heart leaped up to my throat,

“Louisa Jane Miller, I love you so much and I don’t want to live another day without you in my life. Please, will you marry me?”

Babbling like an idiot I said yes and kissed my now fiancée’s lips tasting his tears of happiness on my lips as he did with mine.

I was so happy and so over the moon I went to sleep not worrying of Loki interrupting my dreams. I thought my dreams would be of what I believed my future with Cameron would hold.

But unfortunately for me I was given another dream.

I found myself on a balcony overlooking what I gathered from the golden glow was Asgard, the Bifröst glowing and glittering in the horizon. Knowing now that Loki would be next to me I watched the God looking over the landscape with a smile on his face holding Odin’s shaft.

I could feel how proud and glad he was. It almost felt as though he was gloating with pleasure.

Before I could wonder why he was interrupted by a guard. Like with the dream the night before their conversations was mute, though I gathered it didn’t please Loki. He snarled marching away his green cap thrashing behind himself. My dream-self shadowed him all the way thorough the golden palace down to a basement.

The room was eerily dark and threatening, the only lights were flames from the touches and the white glowing patterned wall that was at the very front of the room. I looked around seeing in each corner there was some sort of object or weapon, each different from the last. When we reached the front of the room I looked around at Loki, his chest heaving under his armour, his green eyes darting around the room with stress.

“Loki what’s going on?” I asked worried. I thought I heard the sound of a snarl but it was quickly covered by a clearing of the throat as he slammed Odin’s shaft on the floor loudly, the sound echoing around the room making me jump with fright. The bright patterned wall parted and moved blinding me from seeing what had stepped out. Loki’s velvet voice was the only thing I could sense,

“Ensure my brother does not return.”

Opening my eyes I grunted at the early morning sun glowing into my eyes looking to my alarm clock. The time I saw sent me into panic waking me up straight away rushing Cameron and myself out the door.

When I got to the Bugle twenty minutes late (with a plain bagel hanging out my mouth like an animal) I thought I was going to be greeted with congratulations from my fellow interns and journalists. Instead I found myself walking into an ordinary day, like the article I wrote the other day didn’t exist. Confused I picked up at the day’s Daily Bugle and flipped through it only to find tributes to the individuals that had died at the Stark Expo and the usual Daily Bugle articles; mine was nowhere to be seen. Panicked I then searched the Daily Bugle’s New site, the same response no matter what I typed in.

I had stormed over to Jameson’s door buzzing with angered **adrenaline** and about to complain when Betty stood in my way.

“I’m sorry Louisa but Mr Jameson’s in a meeting right now –“

I sighed heavy glaring at her, “Ok, maybe you can tell me what the hell happened to my article then.”

She pressed her lips together, her blue eyes not meeting mine,

“I’m sorry Louisa but it got lost.”

My heart jumped,

“Are you fucking kidding me?! What do you mean it got fucking lost?!”

“Louisa I’d appreciate –“

“No! I want answers dammit! I worked really hard on that!”

She had sighed heavy,

“When we went to publish it we couldn’t find it on our database –“

“But that database is secure!”

She sighed heavy again looking fatigued, like she had heard a number of people ranting the same rant,

“I know. So we looked on your files too trying to get it…”

I predicted the rest of the sentence with a tight jaw,

“It wasn’t there either.”

She nodded, “I’m sorry Louisa, did you make a back-up?”

My heart, which at that point was pretty low, sank even further,

“No I didn’t. I trusted the D.B. system _clearly_ too much.”

Betty touched my arm lightly,

“So did Jonah. The meeting he’s in at the moment –“

She nudged with her head to Jameson office,

“-Is with I.T about the databases we’ve got here at the Bugle. He’s just as upset as you are Louisa. He really wanted to publish that article you sent to him.”

“So is he going to be mad at me for not keeping a back-up?”

_As mad as I am with myself about not keeping one,_ I thought at that moment wishing I could hit myself repetitively with my own version of Mjolnir for my stupidity.

She raised her eyebrows,

“No because your “satellite” story is old news now if you can call it that.”

“What?”

“Well there’s no talk of it on the televised news or through other newspaper publications.”

“How? There’s a massive carter in the New Mexico desert! How can something that big be covered up?!”

“Louisa, have you thought that maybe your source is a little….?”

“Jenny isn’t crazy.” I had cut her off, my eyes probably feeling like piercing blue daggers,

“She’s volunteering down there at a local primary school and saw, with a whole lot of other locals, a ’satellite’ before people from what she thought was the government, turned up. There are more people who know of this then just Jenny.”

Betty had sighed heavy,

“Look Louisa I’m sorry about your story but do you have anything else you could report on?”

I rolled my eyes,

“Yeah, but I don’t know if that’ll do much.” I said thinking of the Tesseract article.

She smiled apologetic like she almost knew I didn’t want to continue writing that,

“It’s better than nothing right?”

“I guess.”

_Fuck you unsecure database,_ I thought as I walked away calling Cameron to tell him of the bad news. He was devastated as I was angry at the IT department allowing for me to rant for a while till I decided I needed to get back to work.    

The rest of the morning I particularly spent scratching my head for new ideas besides the Tesseract thing. I contemplated talking about over the troubles of over-analysing dreams but I didn’t really have a wider interest in dreams except for my own weird ones.

_What if those dreams aren’t dreams?_ I thought,

_What if they’re visions?_

_What if Loki’s trying to talk to me again…?_

I rolled my eyes focusing my thoughts on other more plausible things that didn’t make my head or heart hurt as much as researching the Tesseract thing.

Near twelve o’clock with a horribly written article constructed with everything I stood against (conspiracies), Jenny rang again,

“Hey partner in crime, how’s –? “

“Y’know that time in high school when we were really drunk and you told everyone about the Asgardian body guard Loki told you about when you were a kid?” She rushed out as a hello interrupting me.

“Um –“

“And how you said it looked like some silver robot?”

“Ah -”

“And how we didn’t believe you cause there wasn’t any facts in any literature on Vikings saying so?”

“Kind of….?”

“Well, I believe you now ‘cause it’s walking it’s way towards the town right this second.”

A ruffling is heard on the other line, an older man’s voice telling everyone to hurry along.

“How do you know it’s Asgardian?” I ask hearing Jenny run out of some area.

“Because the ‘satellite’ according to you was actually Mew-Mew-“

“Mjolnir.”

“Whatever; same shit. So what’s it to say it’s not Asgardian now?”

“It could be one of Stark’s…”

“Louisa, Mike is a massive fan of Stark’s and I know Iron Man suits when I see them. And that isn’t an Iron Man suit.”

Jenny grunted in the tense silence that had followed,

“Look do you want page one or what?”

With a shrug I grabbed my pen and notebook from my bag,

“Fire away.”

The phone conversation was extremely short because she accidently hung up on me, but I still had enough to write the first part of my exclusive. Jenny had told me what it had looked like along with the vibe the town was under.

I texted her to ring me back on the details when she could and I started typing up the first half.

Twenty minutes later a very happy but shaky Jenny rang back describing some supernatural battle had just taken place. She apparently had hidden in some nearby shop in front of all the violence and was able to not only say in depth every detail but record it on her phone. I was filled in on The Destroyer trashing Puente Antiguo and attacking oddly dressed individuals who looked as they were trying to help.

“The Warriors Three.” I mumbled grinning ear to ear,

“Was Sif there?”

“Who?”

“Was there a woman dressed oddly too?”

“Ah…yeah, there was…”

I giggled telling her to continue. I was then told about some huge guy walking up to the Destroyer before getting slapped across the face.

“I seriously thought he was dead with his girlfriend – well I thought she was he’s girlfriend anyway – crying over him. But then something flew towards him and he caught it and something weird happened making him change…”

I scribbled “THOR” in big letters again telling my friend to continue.

“Well, yeah then a massive storm causing some sort of freak-hurricane-thing and then the next minute it was destroyed with the changed guy now dressed as weirdly as the other four people.”

“Then what?”

“Some bald guy in a suit turned up and spoke to him before the guy just flew off with his girlfriend.”

“Ok, I need you to send that video to my phone stat.”

“Sure. Hey, am I going to get credit for this?”

I laugh, “Of course. I’ll send you half of my pay check.”

“Maybe I should be a journalist…”

“Well if you keep getting me stories like this for sure. Now send me this video.”

“Will do.”

“See ya Jenny.”

She hung up then after saying goodbye, I cheered in triumph typing like mad. The video arrived five minutes later which I watched repetitively for the next hour as I wrote.

An hour and a half later I was again rushing to Jameson’s door to knock frantically. Betty though was there to greet me standing in the way with a wide smile on her face.

“Got another article for us Louisa?” She asked over the thunderstorm outside,

I nod tightly, “Yep.”

“Backed it up?”

I held up my USB stick with a wider smile,

“Yep! Can I see -?”

She opened the door for me announcing me to Jonah; his hand had lashed out ready to take the article. I gave it to him smiling at him; I got a raised eyebrow before he began scanning the article. A short while later he put it down on his desk pressing a button on his desk phone, my heart panicking in my chest.

“Come in here.”

Betty rushed in seconds’ later smiling polity at her boss, “Yes Mr Jameson?”

He handed up my article to her, “Give this tothe printing guys and tell him to scrap that crappy page one article and to put this one in place.”

“Really?!” I yelled.                                                        

Betty took it with a tight nod to Jameson, a small ‘congratulations’ grin aimed at me as she walked.

I watched the Editor-in-Chief smirk at me,

“How would you like to be one of my reporters Miller?”

“I would love –“

“Good because you’ve just got the job here kid.”

“You’re kidding! Really?”

“Never been more serious, we need journalists like you Miller.”

I had laughed nervously not really sure how to deal with all this good news,

“Oh my God this –“

He brushed his hand the smirk had fallen, “Get out.”

I had laughed again, “Thank you Mr Jameson.”

He had smiled a very rare warm smile at me,

“Don’t make me regret it Miller.”

“I won’t, don’t you worry.”

As I was walking out with a massive smile on my face I suddenly became dizzy. The way I’ve explained it to others is that it was like I was extremely drunk and couldn’t see or walk. All I remember was I feel over and stumbled to the ground losing conscience, Betty and Jonah reacting.

Then the next moment I found myself suspended somewhere looking down at the Bifröst. Loki was there with Mjolnir sitting on top of him, Thor not that far away was straggling towards a globe like building glaring at the brightness it was giving. My eyes though were forced on Loki watching him struggling to get Thor’s hammer off his chest, his compressed howls evident he clearly still was not worthy enough to raise the hammer like his brother. As I watched him struggle I heard Thor making the same noises as he walked towards the bright destruction my eyes were not permitted to witness.

Loki was watching his older brother sitting up slightly but still being held down by Mjolnir, an amused but hideous smile on his face as he watched Thor struggle,

“Look at you,” He snarled, his voice holding arrogance,

“Mighty Thor!” He panted out, the hideous smile spreading larger across his face.

“With all strength –“He grunted panting, the weight of Mjolnir weighing him down,

“- and what good does it do you now, ha?!” He grunts, his helmeted head hitting the Bifröst with a slam. Although he doesn’t give up still taunting the God of Thunder,

“DO YOU HEAR ME BROTHER?! THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO!”

It seems then I was allowed to look over to Thor then only to watch him, with defeated eyes outstretch his arm catching Mjolnir as it flew into his hand. I watch him take a deep breathe in and swing his arm down on to the bridge to cause a loud cracking sound. He then started destroying the bridge, each hit making me heart thud. Loki sat up slowly than watching his face showing pain and distress, his eyes watering.

“What are you doing?!” He yells over to his brother outstretching his arm like a plea.

I could fell his heart beat like it was my own, images of my nine year old self sleeping with a little smile on my face flash across my eyes. Thor slamming into the bridge again just as another vision of her opening her tired eyes smiling touching Loki’s face gently. Loki and my heart throbs at the memory just as he felt other emotions, dread and angst on Thor’s actions, Odin flashing across my mind feeling Loki’s panic.

“IF YOU DESTROY THE BRIDGE YOU’LL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN!” Loki screams in desperation. At that moment another vision of me though as a teenager, this memory was distant and from a bird eyes view. I was in a tight ball under my covers, tears streaming down my face,

_“Loki come back. …Please Loki come back.”_

With angered teary eyes and a panicking heart he gets up rushing over to his brother. I watched his staff outstretched to hurt his brother as I struggled in the constringes I was captive in to stop Thor from making a big mistake.

“Forgive me Jane…” Thor pleaded slamming the hammer down once more just as Loki jumps with a battle cry, the bridge shuttering loudly with the sound of broken glass and the thundering clash of water covering my screams. I wish that was all I had seen but it wasn’t.

I felt then like I was falling, the heavy pit of vertigo jolting my stomach and my vision that was still being affected by the bright light of the destruction. Scared I crawled at the nothing somehow grabbing something cold and metal jolting up feeling relief but still fright.

My vision came back scaring me, my breathing heavy as I looked next to me. Loki was there panting heavy looking up at to what had caught him with a look of relief but also fright. Something I didn’t have an interest for, my eyes only on my ex-Prince. He was so close, his green cape I used to hide under as a child flapping on the tips of my flats, his strong smell tickling my nose. I watched his arm shaking as his hands began to slip, the panic I felt was my own that Loki would slip down into the nothingness. I could feel my cheeks becoming wet with tears glazing on at my frightened ex-Prince.

He glanced at me then, his expression worried and concerned. The glance at that moment in time felt like Loki was more scared for me watching him hanging there as his hand slipping down the shaft. He swallows lowering his eyebrows, his green eyes brave for those couple of seconds. It was almost like he was letting me know he was going to be ok. And I believed that look, just like I always had as a child trusting his reassurance.

He glazed past his Brother who was making struggling sounds to keep a hold of the shaft and his little Brother’s weight to what was holding the two of them up.

“I could have done it Father!” Loki cried almost like it was in desperation.

“FOR YOU! For all of us!” He cries, Loki’s voice breaking at the end, his green eyes almost pleading.  

I wanted to turn then and look at Odin’s face but like previously with Thor, my neck wouldn’t turn to look up to where Odin was probably holding his sons.

“No Loki.”

Loki face looked shocked and hurt broken, his eyes searching into his Father’s for something. He’s eyebrows lower and almost like he made his decision, I watch his tight grip on the shaft begin to relax.

“Loki no…!”

“No! Loki please don’t! Please!” Thor and I pleaded at the same time, Loki’s eyes never once looking away from his Father as he let go of Gungnir and fell.

“NOOOO!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The look Loki gives to Louisa is at 5.53 of [THIS](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59qoIFbAAzE/%22) video. The look is probably Loki’s fright of bits of the Bifröst falling on him or Tom checking for his safety but eh.
> 
> As you probably can tell this is the longest chapter. This chapter also has most context heavy in regards to Loki. I still wanted Loki to have the motivations he has the first Thor movie (for his Father to see him as worthy), but also feel like he wanted to find Louisa again.
> 
> Also, to all the Spider-Man fans out there, Yes, I know in 2011 Jonah (in the comics) was no longer the Chief Editor of the Daily Bugle – he was the mayor of New York. And to all the cinematic fans out there, I put the Bugle in there because I like to think that even though Spiderman isn’t in the same universe as the Avengers (insert massive-“but-he-should-be”- rant) the newspaper still exists even though it hasn’t be addressed by the movies (yet – I hope it does). 
> 
> But besides all that, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Scratchet xox


	19. The Nightmares

I don’t really know fully what happened after I woke up, all I know is that I was in an ambulance on my way the hospital. According to the report done by the drivers I was screaming and being extremely violent by hitting, kicking and biting at them to get out. It wasn’t because I was scared or because I was deranged as the drivers had theorized, it was because I thought I could go and save Loki or follow him into the abyss.

I don’t know why I thought this. I don’t know why I wanted to save him. He hadn’t saved me. Sometimes I think it’s because I still loved him deep down, but that thought pisses me off every time I think of it. 

I went from going to a hospital to a high-end mental care facility just out of New York where I was still muttering and crying over Loki. That was the first time in three years I had actually cried full sorrowful tears and I had wasted them all on him.

I was apparently like this for two days. I didn’t eat or drink and I would either turn my back or scream in fright at the nurses, psychologists and even Cameron scared of them touching me. If they did touch me, like Cameron did, I would start screaming out for my Mother or my ex-Prince and would try and attack them. The way the report describes it is I showed, “juvenile tendencies” and was under “extreme emotional stress.”

Again, I don’t understand why because I don’t and can’t recall any of this. All I remembered was one day wondering why it was suddenly Sunday and being extremely disoriented demanding the armed officers outside my door to explain what was going on. I also felt extremely tired and depressed like I had just woken up.

It wasn’t till later on when one of the psychologists, Rayna with her face caked on with make-up and a fashion sense of someone out of the Hunger Games, was when I was told all of this.

“What made you have such a reaction?”

Again, like with Steven, I should have shut up. I wished I just lied or just stayed quiet. But I was frightened of what I had just heard and told Rayna about the dreams and what I believed had gone on connecting the dots particularly. 

“Thor did something and was banished here to Earth…in the New Mexico desert in Puente Antiguo for some reason… and Loki didn’t want him to come back so he sent the Destroyer to kill him….Which is odd because only Odin has control over that so that means Loki has to be King…And Odin must therefore be in the Odin Sleep…

“But anyway clearly that didn’t work so Thor came back just in time to stop Loki from doing something…I think he was destroying a world with the Bifröst…Possibly Jotunheim because Odin - Who I think Loki was trying to impress - always hated Frost Giants…But Thor stopped him by destroying the Bifröst…and then Loki dropped down into a pit, killing himself after Odin said that’s not what he wanted him to do.” 

I remember looking up at Rayna with her face set in a frown, 

“Louisa, nothing strange has happened anywhere in Puente Antiguo…”

“What? What do you mean?! The town was destroyed!” I yelled, she shook her head. 

“No it wasn’t Louisa.”

“Yes it was! I have proof!” I pulled out my phone and went through it trying to find the video which Jenny had sent me but to my dismay I couldn’t find it. 

“It was on here before…I remember watching it!”

“Louisa…”

“The Daily Bugle! They had an article on it on Friday! Page one! I wrote it!”

Rayna went over to the little desk they had given me which had a three newspapers stacked on it. She pulled out the Daily Bugle and gave it to me, 

“Culver University attacked by the Rio Monster!” Read the title.

Frantically I flipped through the paper looking for something, anything on the New Mexico incident but I found nothing except for something about a freak storm. I had been panicky at this point. I felt my hands shaking with my nerves all standing on end, my heart marathon running in my chest as stared down at the tabloid.

“There has to be a mistake! Jonah said he would make it page one! I have a back-up and everything for it! Jenny – my friend told me about it! She was there! She saw it all! She saw the hammer and the Destroyer wrecking the town! You’ve got to believe me!” 

Rayna sighed, “I’ll talk to Jenny.” 

Turns out Jenny couldn’t remember anything of the New Mexico incident. According to her she had been at the primary school out of town early for work. She was nowhere near Puente Antiguo at the time of the Destroyer attack. 

I had decided to call her under the supervision of Rayna trying to remind her of the incident but she didn’t remember a thing. 

“Louisa please, don’t put words into my mouth…” She had pleaded after five minutes of me begging.

“But Jenny you were there! You rang me and everything! I was going to give you half my pay, remember?!” 

“No I don’t remember any of that Louisa. I’m sorry Louisa but I’ve got a massive headache from screaming children.”

“Jenny please! They think I’m crazy!”

“Well Louisa maybe you are a little.”

“Jenny…” I started, my voice losing its panic

“I’m sorry Louisa, but I can’t…” Her sigh came out shaky, 

“I can’t deal with this anymore. You’re always relapsing-“

“Relapsing? Jenny you were there-!”

“And now you’re bringing me into this and I don’t want to be a part of this!”

“Jenny don’t please! You have to..!”  
She hung up on me that day not only on the phone but also our friendship.

Feeling a little heartbroken, I was still felt determined to prove that I wasn’t actually insane. So I then rang the Bugle wanting to talk anyone about my article, preferably Jameson. But, like always, I was put through to Betty. 

“Louisa I don’t think it’s such a good idea to talk to Jameson right now…”

“I just want to know what happened to my article….”

“I’m sorry but due to your…um… mental state we couldn’t take your article.”

“Oh don’t tell me you think I’m delusion as well?” I asked wanting to cry. 

Betty swallowed heavy,

“I’m sorry Louisa –“

“Do I still have the job?” I had asked with my voice cracking. 

“Jameson has given the internship to the young man who wrote the Culver University story.”

“What? Why?! I thought -”

“Jameson doesn’t want you back in this building after the incident you caused.” She had snapped scaring me a little.

“Incident…?”

“Where you attacked the two ambulance drivers, it was reported on by one of our freelancereporters on our site. Think it through Louisa; would you employ someone who is a delusional schizophrenic who thinks Asgardian Gods are attacking New Mexico and is claiming to have proof that doesn’t exist past crazy YouTube conspiracy videos…?”

“It’s the truth though!” 

She sighed heavy, 

“Goodbye Louisa.”

Again I was hung up on and had found myself back in the painful situation I was in when I was nine. Only this time it was a lot worse. I lost my job at the Bugle along with my reputation when I walked out of that building a week later. Jenny would no longer talk to me scared I’d bring up the incident in New Mexico. The Daily Bugle having put a protection order out against me stating I wasn’t allowed to walk anywhere near the building or approach their workers through any means of communication. 

A.K.A I no longer had a chance of working as a journalist in New York as long as that restraining order sticks around. No one’s going to employ a reporter with a restraining order against them, believe me I have tried. 

Scared I rang Cameron’s home phone hoping to hear him telling me I was ok, that he, my fiancée was here for me. But a woman by the name of Erin answered his phone. My first instinct was that he was cheating on me but I was told that Cameron no longer lived at that address,

“He moved.”

“Do you know why or where’s he’s gone?” I asked confused,

“No idea where but he’s crazy schizo ex-girlfriend attacked him and he was advised to stay away from her,”

My heart broke into a trillion of pieces as I stood there feeling myself becoming numb again,

“Guess he took it too seriously. He didn’t want to risk it since she broke his arm and gave him a massive black eye. I wouldn’t stick around with them if they hit me, would you?”

“No.” I said on the verge of tears not sure if I wanted to cry because I was scared of myself or if I was heartbroken that Cameron was gone. That he was scared of me.

I hung up on Erin not long after and wished I could cry again for someone I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with instead of staring empty at nothing. 

I took the ‘support’ I received from my Hunger Games reject of a psychologist Rayna and Billie. Despite Jenny being hostel with me, Billie has stayed by me along with her family. When I was the hospital and out of it, I was visited by Billie and her then fiancée Troy McLain with Linda coming every time she could with her husband David who would always bring some sort of food. 

Granted they didn’t believe me – no one does – but they still listened to my ‘delusions’ and about how much I ‘hated’ Cameron now.

But I hated myself. 

After a while, I seriously thought everything was going ok. I let people believe they were helping me and rather disturbing pushed my feelings that I still had for Cameron down somewhere I couldn’t see or feel them. I let Rayna over analyse my life and listened to Billie tell me of her wedding plans.

Granted both of these activities didn’t get any real enjoyment for me, because one was stating things that just made me uncomfortable and the other was going down the path I truly wished to go down myself. Although, they both in their own sense focused on moving forward, something I knew from experience worked for me. I seriously thought I was recovering from it all this way.  
That was until Loki turned up in my dreams again. Something I didn’t want because I was back to being a wreck.

After I had seen Loki drop into the black-hole thing I thought he was dead. I thought he wasn’t coming back. I was sad of course, and I had what I considered a mourning period which was my freak out. But I was also glad because I felt, with Loki dead, that period in my life would finally finish. Loki wouldn’t be a problem anymore; I could move on and actually have a life where Loki wouldn’t appear. 

But then I started having dreams of Loki talking, fighting and killing things I couldn’t see. The first dream was at some sort of alien lake where I saw Loki on the other side glaring at in the distance. I ignored this and treated it as nothing. I just thought him being there like any other random disturbing character like my father or The Other that visited my dreams.   
Then they started happening every second night and would just get worse and worse. Loki went from glaring at nothing, to crying in a wreck, to running into threats that he could either avoid with his wits or confront dead on nearly costing his life.

I watched his features go from the youthful and innocent to hard and malicious. I heard his laughter turn from joyful and jumpy to a breathless unforgiving snarl. I tasted the fear and blood of his enemies – his victims - on my tongue. And I felt every sick twisted emotion and belief grow more defined as he obsessed of over it. 

Unworthy, Betrayed, Rightful King and Destroyer were a few of the words that would do laps in my head. 

I didn’t want these dreams. They scared me and angered me, giving me a sick feeling of burning that (unlike Loki) I didn’t feel comforting in the slightest. 

So I started taking sleeping pills thinking that would stop them.

That didn’t work.

Then I started getting drunk thinking that would knock me out.

That didn’t work either.

Finally I tore off the rose petals of Loki’s rose.

But the next morning after another dream of Loki it was back together again, a sickly bright yellow in colour. 

Nothing seemed to be working.

I continued to unwillingly watch Loki survive one threat after another as I continued to find other means to block out the dreams. 

The ‘other means’ though caught the attention of Billie landing me back into the hospital again. I was seen as a danger to myself, especially when I started to mix the alcohol and the pills in desperation. 

By that point Loki had been found by someone instead of battling on his own and was being treated much like I had been in the “care” of The Other. He was starved in a cell of some sort that only had a small crack of light in it chained up, having to listen to the snarls and screams of faceless creatures. These creatures that started to haunt my waking hours when I was in the underground on my way to find work at restaurants and cafés.

The dreams were seen as delusions again landing me on schizophrenic pills. Again because I didn’t take them that meant more visits from my psychologists and a social worker by the name of Stephanie. Stephanie visited me every week to see how I was and if I was keeping up with the pill taking. 

At first I would lie about taking them but after awhile Stephanie along with everyone else who considered themselves my support was seeing through that facade. Clearly, my nightmares with the God of Lies weren’t rubbing off on me enough. That and I didn’t think to throw the pills away to make it look like I was taking them. So then I started to convince others by lying about not having the dreams anymore and by throwing away the pills during the day as I looked for a job. 

This worked.

But that wasn’t stopping the dreams, I was scared and frightened. I saw no way out, I was always on edge whether it was during the day or before I went to bed. I was afraid of sleeping and was afraid of being outside where I started to believe that’s where the monsters, my monsters lived. They were around each corner looking at me in the dark snarling their laughter testing me. Well that’s what I believed then. 

I was in the hospital again but this time it was for my own personal protection after I tried to jump off my apartment building. Luckily for me, a police officer who lived in the building spotted me and talked me down. It took him an hour but after he mentioned the people I cared for like my friends, who wanted me to get better and to fight the monsters was when I got down. He then notified Billie’s Mum and she put me in Academy Street Community Residence, who made an exception to my youth.

There I was watched twenty-four-seven with people making sure I was taking the pills and was not allowed out of the hospital unless I was with some sort of guardian. 

So that meant I was no longer Billie’s bridesmaid. Jenny had filled that position I felt so treasured to have in the first place. Now, I’m just a ‘possible’ guest at my best friend’s wedding which fucking sucks. It makes me so angry and sorry for myself when I think about it. 

I was so delusional really all I needed then was a straitjacket and a padded cell to scream about the monsters trying to get me. 

I was quiet and decided not to talk to anyone because, according to me at the time, I thought everyone would tell me what they wanted me to think and I wasn’t up for it. I became a vegetable just eating and getting my sun at the window I sat at, nothing more. I refused to make friends with anyone because I knew I wasn’t crazy, they were. It was the reason I didn’t get involved in any of the residence programs. I knew I was hopeless with an instrument and I knew my cooking skills didn’t need any improvement. Or as they put it, I was in denial of my condition.   
I knew at the time that the dreams (which still happen with those fucking pills) were from Loki. 

He was torturing me with his torture and I fucking hated him for it. I thought it was his fault, not my own for reacting publicly like a fucking psycho. I thought that if he truly loved me like he said he did all those years ago, he wouldn’t put me through all this bullshit like his doing now. 

Like with the ‘training’ with The Other, showing the destruction of worlds with the power of whatever they were using (I never know because either the dream stops or the words became muddled - which is very out of character for Loki cause I know he likes to gloat). Maybe the rose could prick me, let me know he truly hates me. But it doesn’t, it only hurts other people when they touch it when they change the water it doesn’t need to sit in. 

Well if, he truly exists that is. 

Because after a while, I started to believe, that maybe he was in my head.

The dreams, as painful as they were all represented the suffering I had gone through as a child. The monsters were the repulsed memories of the violence who were trying to break me; The Other character was a warped version of Janet. And Loki, he was just the hero I craved as a child with the violence and didn’t let go of it till I started to hate him for putting me in hospital. The reason he was a frog was because I felt I was unclean because of the violence, I wasn’t worthy of love. So by kissing a frog and him turning into a prince, I wished for a change in my life. 

The rose he gave me represented that I was struggling with the difficulties I was having with my Mum and Steven and my relationship later on in life. They couldn’t explain why I always had a rose with me but they suggested that maybe I was picking new ones every day - which doesn’t make sense since roses don’t bloom all year round and I know I don’t pick one each day. 

The instant with New Mexico was because I was stressed and scared of not getting the internship. So my subconscious made up the whole thing so I would get the job. By making Jenny the main actor I felt she was creditable and it would make it more real. 

It made a lot of sense and with that I slowly became to realize that I was indeed crazy and that I could manage it. Granted I hate the pills but I still take them. I was making people proud around me because I was recognizing my condition. People like Billie, her Mum and Dad, Troy and the people at Academy Street Community Residence were all glad I’m getting better. 

I was allowed to keep a dream journal where I recorded my nightmares about Loki. Along with that I started getting involved in the music program where I learnt how to play the guitar and was allowed in the creative writing program. 

We weren’t allowed to write about our delusions but I did saying it helped get over… recognize what I had come from. A record of my assumptions, my demons and everything that I’m confused are all in this thing. 

Well, except everything to do with Cameron. That I’ve edited out because, while Loki causes me pain every night, me hurting Cameron and making him run away causes me pain every second, every minute, every hour, every day I exist without him next to me. If I had allowed myself he would have taken up half of this thing, maybe 85% at most. I could make a whole book on how much I love him and how much I hate myself but I know that’s not going to get me very fair.

Writing this thing does. It does because I can take it with me when I get out of here and look at it to remind myself again that I struggle with my mind every day. And that I am moving forward. 

The nightmares will come and they hurt like shit every day but I’m strong. 

I can do this and I will do this. 

Loki, my delusion, you’re not going to hurt me anymore.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:   
> If I could give a Louisa a, “I’m sorry for making your life shit” card, I would. 
> 
> If you haven’t figured it out after this chapter the writing style changes from 2nd person to 1st person. We will be fully Louisa’s head from this point forward, not in her coping book. 
> 
> I’m so terrified of doing this change, mainly because all enjoy the current one. 
> 
> But we’ll see how it goes I guess. 
> 
> But before that I’ll be posting up little short stories so I can get you guys more geared up! 
> 
> One will be called, “Louisa’s Dream Journal” “Absent Minded” “Confession of Wants and Needs” and finally, “Wedding Bells” 
> 
> “Louisa’s Dream Journal” as you probably guessed from the title are her entries in the journal which focus on Loki’s time with The Other and what I believe happened when Loki was in the abyss. 
> 
> “Absent Minded” Goes into what S.H.I.EL.D. did while doing d the ‘clean up” of New Mexico.
> 
> “Confession of Wants and Needs” is a piece of Billie’s diary where she vents about her worries for her best friend.
> 
> And finally, “Wedding Bells” looks at how Billie’s and others are feeling about Billie’s big day and Louisa not being there.
> 
> To understand the events that are coming in the next chapter, I highly suggest you read those when they come out. This will be sooner than how long you guys had to wait for this chapter (sorry!). 
> 
> So get excited! 
> 
> As usual tell me what you think!
> 
> Scratchet xoxo
> 
> p.s. if any of you feel like Louisa did in this chapter (suicidal thoughts, anxiety, depression) please talk to someone you can trust that is close to you or call your local helpline.   
> 


End file.
